


Behind Blue Eyes

by Max72



Series: Cold, worn and maybe a little panic stricken [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers for s01 ep11- A Magical Place.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max72/pseuds/Max72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Cold, worn and maybe a little panic stricken - Coulson's secret was out, the Avengers knew he wasn't dead.</p><p>Then he got kidnapped by Centipede.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No one knows what its like to be the bad man.

**Author's Note:**

> Title for this and chapter titles comes from The Who - Behind Blue Eyes. Think they must have written the lyric for my story ;)
> 
> There are no real spoilers in this chapter, just the dark vibe that the episode ended with, holy cow, and I thought fanfiction writers around the world had cornered the market in Angst!

**No one knows what is like to be the bad man.**

“What the hell are you doing?”

This had not been what Barton had imagined and he was pissed. Fair enough he had brought Tony Stark with him, but he had little choice, as soon as Stark had gotten wind of where he was heading, there was no stopping him and he had reasoned with himself it was better for Clint to be the official buffer between the two men than Stark turn up unannounced.

Clint had been worried sick, when he had first heard of Phil's disappearance, if he had any doubt about his feeling for Phil they had vanished when the situation had become clear, he was still very much in love with the man, that didn't mean he was just going to stumble back into his life though, that would take time, but, if he was honest with himself, it was a matter of when, rather than if. As long as Phil still wanted it of course, and that wasn't a given, based on his behaviour right now.

Barton thought back through the last few days, he had walked in to S.H.I.E.L.D HQ and the place had been buzzing, he had never experience the place in such a tizz. He had been called back from assignment, thankfully, it had been a long, boring, drawn out stake out, in the back of beyond, that any number of Agents could have done. It had taken him nearly two days to get back to civilisation and close to another before he had finally turned up at HQ, still with no idea of why.

When he had found out, his world had dropped out once again, being in love with Phil Coulson was getting ridiculously hard on the emotions, the man was a walking disaster movie of his very own! He kept telling himself, 'he's not dead, he's not dead,' there would be time to get him back, ALIVE, he was too important an asset just to kill off and the elaborate set up to capture him was testimony to that, but when he'd caught sight briefly of Fury, looking more flustered and apprehensive than he could ever remember seeing, his worry had notched up ten fold.

Natasha was still away, one of only a few that hadn't been recalled to work on the Centipede hit. He'd had no one to turn to, and had ending up at Stark Tower and the Avengers joint shoulders to cry on or at least to tell them of his worry. They had been great, welcomed him back into the fold, even though they had not exactly been happy when he had gone off on S.H.I.E.L.D business again. The organisation had more than blotted its copy book in their eyes and unless the world was in mortal danger they really wanted nothing to do with them right now. Stark had been beyond furious when he had been told about the Coulson deception, Rogers had made his distaste for the whole business very clear but it had been Stark that had really blown his top, numerous angry calls to Fury had followed, who in turn, had got his own back on Clint for telling tales by reassigning him straight from the mission, that had sent him in to rescue Coulson and his team, which had directly lead to discovering Fury and companies deceit. Coulson had been whisked away too, to recover, apparently, on the bus as they flew off to their next mission. The only consolation was that it had taken Coulson away from the Avengers questions as well, he was sure that Phil had been thankful for that at least. Clint was sure that Phil liked Stark, secretly he rather enjoyed his brand of humour, not that he would admit it, nobody ever admitted it! The man was a menace especially when he got a bee in his bonnet and the others had a tendency just to go along with his flow, or possibly they just nodded their heads, in what they hoped, was the right place to keep the illusion of listening to Stark up and Coulson really won't want that attention turn on him.

Once Phil's latest retrieval had been completed, Clint had gotten a call from Hill, to fill him in, it had been a tense and short conversation, Phil was bruised and a bit battered but according to Hill, who had tried unsuccessfully to lighten the mood, he was already suited up and ready for business. She had gone into great detail about how Centipede had been hit hard all around the world, and Clint couldn't have cared less, Coulson was safe and that was all that mattered, and then all he wanted was to see for himself.

Tony had helped find where the bus had been parked, it had taken his computer skills no more than five minutes, and of course he then invited himself along, even when Barton had almost begged Stark not too, he had wisecracked about Agent having to face the music sooner or later, Clint had sighed but agreed.

So here they were, Coulson had a face like thunder, the deep bruises around his eye only enhancing the vision. Stark had ranted and raved at him, and Phil... Phil had just stood there. It had been a relief when Tony's phone had demanded his attention and he had stepped out into the hallway to take it.

As soon as he stepped out of the room Barton had rounded on the silent man, demanding to know, what the hell, Phil was doing, cause yes, Clint had thought, for all Stark's crap, he had deserved some explanation, an apology for the lies that had been told. Not the heartfelt one that he had received himself obviously but some sign of remorse that would sooth the Iron Man's temper.

Sure he had been through yet another terrible time, he was probably tired and sore from the roughing up centipede had dealt him, but he'd been through much much worse before. This type of snatch and grab wouldn't have been much of a surprise to Coulson, it made sense for the villainous organisation to target him, after all, his little team of misfits had apparently been a serious thorn in its side for a while and there was no better way to hit back, than by cutting off the head that lead them.

But Phil was pushing even Clint's patience with his best Stoic, bland, Agent of Shield, act. He had stood in the whirlwind that was Tony Stark, and had not uttered a single word, the only reaction from the man was when he had folded his arms, which had wound Stark up even more and Clint had to lay a restraining hand on his shoulder to stop him taking a swing at the older man (tried to at least, Clint couldn't imagine Coulson allowing it to land). As Tony had started to run out of words with no counter foil to produce more, the phone had gone. Clint could hear him out in the hallway now, short, terse answers signalling a conversation that wouldn't go on very long.

He was disappointed, the man in front of him didn't seem to be the one from a few short weeks ago, this one resembled the Phil Coulson of old, the one he had met when he first joined. The bland, calm, emotionless man that never let anyone in, sure Phil had always been pleasant, helpful, a team player through and through but he had also been joyless and sterile, granted, he was probably seen like that even now by the Junior ranks but he had allowed his personality out to those he came into contact with regularly, he was warm and full of humour, Clint liked to think their relationship had relaxed the man even more, everyone thought it was Barton himself that had changed the most, as he himself, had grown to trust again, to love, but they were very similar in many way, intensely private at heart. Phil of the two of them was the easier to get along with, but his secret was to put people at easy with the least emotional content put in on his own behalf. When asked what people knew about Phil, very few could actually give any details at all.

“Well?” He asked.

Phil only shrugged his shoulders, they were tense shoulders, neck stiff, his eyes hooded, but constantly darting away, they had a hard and unforgiving look but touched with something Clint had never seen. He reassessed the situation, this wasn't an indifferent Coulson, it was difficult to pin point what it was, it unnerved Clint, Phil looked... unbalanced, and Phil was the poster boy for stable, even when the world was going to hell, this was new and it all raged behind his blue eyes, nothing showed on his face.

“Phil?” He took a step towards him, and couldn’t help the flinch when the man stepped back from him.

“Barton!” Starks voice vibrated round the room, Clint took a quick look back out into the hallway to see Melinda May blocking Starks entrance back into the room. When he turned back, Phil had backed himself up against the desk and was gripping the edge with both hands, knuckles turned white with the pressure. Jesus, Clint thought, he looked ill, pale and drawn, sweat breaking out on his forehead, he should have paid more attention when Stark had forced his way into the room with his usual larger than life brashness. As he looked now he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around and comfort him. They had come stumbling in here, taking the bruises at face value but there was obviously much, much, more going on here.

“Barton, will you tell this woman, to get the hell out of my way!”

“Phil,” he tried again to break through the barrier but watched as he only tensed up more.

Phil looked away and quietly said, “Please, just take him away.” It was a plea, and one he couldn't ignore, in asking Phil had revealed the fragile man he was in that moment, standing here, closed off, tormented by a nightmare, he wasn't ready to share.

“Please,” he breathed.

Clint nodded, staring wide eyed with concern but without another word walked towards the door and the ever increasing volume of Tony Stark. He paused at the door and took one last look at Phil, dress immaculately in his protective suit of armour. Phil swallowed, nodded his head minutely in thanks. He knew in that moment that what had happened to Phil, in the days he had been missing was bad, so so bad and he did the hardest thing he had ever done in all the years they had been together, he turned and walked out the door. As it shut behind him he imagined the man sinking to the floor in despair, but Barton knew deep down that he would more than likely simply walk round his desk, sit down, pull the next piece of paper on the pile toward him and start working.

The irritation he had felt towards Phil earlier was easy transferred to Stark. “Get Coulson's Pit bull out of my face, Barton.”

“May,” he sighed, “it's OK, we're going.”

“What! No, I haven't finished with that son of a ...”

“Shut up, Tony,” Barton interrupted sharply and was pleasantly surprised when Stark snapped his mouth shut and walked away throwing his hands up in the air.

He looked at Melinda May, Tony's description not a million miles off, as she glared at the pair of them but he was glad of it too, he needed to know that there was somebody here for Phil, Coulson and May had an odd looking relationship on the surface, but he knew that he trusted her with his fella and more importantly Phil trusted her. He glanced round at the shut door one final time, he so wanted to go back in and gather the man to his chest and take him to bed, in the hope of driving his demons away but Phil wasn't ready for that, he was in a dark place, he needed to come to terms and admit that. He felt something being placed in his hand, looking down at a small flash drive, “For your eyes only, Barton,” May stated.

He nodded once and turned to follow Stark off the plane.

“and Clint,” he turned his head in answer, and watched as she indicating briefly at Coulsons closed door, “he's done with being the bad man here, don't bring any more of his so called friends back if they don't understand and except that, he can't take any more.”

Barton nodded once, turning despairing eyes to her, “you'll watch over him... please,” he whispered.

“I will.” she acknowledged, and Barton felt a few seconds of relief before his fingers gripped the flash drive in his hands and he stumbled away from Phil each step harder than the last.


	2. To be the sad man, behind blue eyes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few hours since Clint had to walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update for you, it hopefully doesn't mean more mistakes!
> 
> This is a little shorter but I think it needed its own chapter, Clint and Melinda told me so and I am sure Phil would agree if he was in any condition to do so.
> 
> And if you thought the Angst was ending anytime soon forget it!

Barton had long experience of coming instantly awake as his phone rings. The room was dark, the bed sheets rumpled around him, he was lying in a comfortable warm patch that has been been heated by his sleeping body and was reluctant to move from but he still picks the phone up on the second ring, and waits for instructions, because calls in the middle of the night only mean one thing, but they don't come.

“Clint?” Its no more than a whisper, that comes over the line, as he holds it closer to his ear. His eyes darted to the alarm clock, confirming the fact it was deep into the night. 

“Where are you?”

“Too far away,” the despairing answer came back. Clint remembers seeing them refuelling the jet when he had driven away with Tony earlier in the day/yesterday. They were obviously in the air or already landed some place out of reach. He wanted to go along to Fury's office and shake the man or maybe shoot the fucker, he must have seen the footage and yet he still keeps sending him out. At the bare minimum the guy needed some down time, more likely he needed medical help, not that he could imagine Phil going near any doctors any time soon, but couldn't they understand he was unravelling, Clint had seen it, May had seen it, he even suspected that Stark had seen it, which is why he hadn't argued more when Clint had told him they were going, after all Tony lived on the edge of insanity he could probably smell it on others. It made no sense, but then Coulson had told him that Fury and Hill were avoiding any contact with him, Fury had put in a very public appearance on the plane soon after they had first started out as a team, but that had been it, and considering the fact that he had been his right hand man, his best friend for gods sake, before he had… he still couldn't quite work his way round what to call it, not his death any more, he's attack, nah, that still wasn't right, wasn't nearly big enough a sentence for what Phil had gone through. Now the phone calls didn't even go directly to Phil, May had told Clint, that Agent Hand had conveyed Fury's apparent pleasure that Phil had been found safe and sound, not him personally. They were shit scared of the man or what he would do by the sounds of it, and Clint's imagination didn't run as far as to why that would be, and why it scared him so much.

“Tell me, Phil.”

“I can't...” the voice broke off with a sob, “I... shut my eyes and... my head... it hurts, everything... dark.”

Clint looked across his apartment to his table, his Stark pad still sitting where he had left it, flash drive still plugged in, he'd had to abandon it after watching, hearing Phil's pleas to die. There had been no indication to what had actually happened to Phil, only the video of him in that room, with that machine, firstly he had watched as he was questioned and tortured for answers, proudly watching him resist, it had helped to know, it was after the fact and he was safe of course, it was not the usual form of torture but the answers had been the standard stonewall tactics that every Agent was taught, only the best could keep to it though when the chips were down. Then the woman's voice had taken over, and Phil had started to listen, the video had shown when he had started to react to what he was seeing in his mind and still he had held out on giving them answers, only Coulson could use torture to his own advantage, he had counted on being able to control what he was saying, and he could, what he couldn't control was what he was seeing and Clint had forced himself to watch through to the end, he screams still ringing in his head as the video stopped. He had jumped up from the table so fast that chair had rocked once and toppled over to the floor with a crash, he had rushed from the room and ended up in his tiny bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, scrubbing at his eyes.

He closed them again as he listened to Phil's haunted voice on the other end of the phone. He needed to stay composed for him, he pulled the phone away from his ear for a second and cleared his throat. 

“Listen to me, Phil, just listen,” and he talked, about everything and anything, mundane things, not quite what the weather was doing but pretty close. Barton isn't known for small talk but this was Phil and they had shared a life together and that allows a familiarity to Clint's conversation. His voice gets a little rough, he could do with a sip of water but Phil is listening, he can hear his ragged, to fast breaths, puffing down the phone, and that is all that matters.

He reaches over to his night stand as he continued his one sided dialogue, opened the draw and pulled out another mobile, he talked and texted at the same time.

He told him, of Stark's latest exploits, the gadgets that he wanted to try out on them all, he knew the man on the other end of the phone would hold no grudge against Tony from his visit earlier today. He broke the news of Captain America's new drive to get kids exercising more, it was a PR stunt of course, but Rogers took it seriously, like he took everything seriously and throws himself into the scheme, touring around various schools and clubs with his boyish smile, turning all the mothers and some fathers heads as he goes.

Barton's hearing was quick to pick up the sound of a door opening at the other end, the faint footsteps, the springs of Coulson bed squeaking slightly as someone sits down and a intake of breath, Phil's for sure, and then a clear voice that sounds loud in his ear after the silence, talking into the phone that they have obviously taken from Phil, “I'm here, I’ll take over.” She always sounded scary to Clint, but Phil trusted and liked her and that's enough.

“Thank you, Melinda,” he managed to reply before the line goes dead and Barton, takes some great shuddering breaths, returned the mobile to the draw and buried his face, and no one knew about the tears of frustration but his cold damp pillow.


	3. My dreams aren't as empty as my conscious seems to be.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking up the pieces of Phil J Coulson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short mid week update. Hope you enjoy!

My dreams aren't as empty as my conscious seems to be.

 

He was facing away from the door when she came in, laying on his side, phone pressed hard to his ear. Fully clothed apart from his suit jacket which was nowhere to be seen, probably already hung spick and span in the cupboard, even catatonic Coulson would hang his jacket up! If he heard her enter he made no sign of it, which was worrying either way, cause he should have been aware of her.

 

She sat on the edge of the bed facing his tight neck and tense shoulders, watching his accelerated breathing, which had a panicky sound to it, a picture despondency and hurt and not of relaxation for sure. He made no sound, just listened to the soft voice that filtered through the phone, from where she sat it just sounded like a tinny whine, she was glad she couldn't hear what the other man was saying, she felt rather uncomfortable just being here as it was, she knew of course it was Barton on the other end, it was his text that had brought her here, despite her own misgivings, she had told him she would look out for Coulson and Barton was calling that in. The plane had been down only half an hour and she had been going through her after flight checks before retiring to her bed for the rest of the night, when the rather anguish message had come through.

 

She reached across and gently prised the phone from his fingers, he took a larger intake of breath but didn't move apart from moving his hand to rest it on the bed.

 

“I'm here, I’ll take over,” Melinda spoke into the phone, waited for a moment as the man on the other end spoke, before she hung up.

 

She doesn't feel equipped for this, but she was all he's had and she knows... she knows, where he is, she been in that dark place and its taken her long time to start digging her way out and a big part of the reason she ever started her journey back, was lying on the bed in front of her... so she can do this. 

 

His breathing is still too fast, she wished she could see his face but he was hiding it away from her,  
she reached over to check his pulse, but as she press her fingers to his neck, she is startled when he shouts, “NO,” and bolts off the bed, stumbling away from the sheets that followed him. He raced across the room to his small bathroom and in the next second she can hear him throwing up violently. 

 

She closed her eyes, she was out of her depth. She also knows that he wasn't ready to speak about what happened in that room, she wouldn't have been either, she had heard his cries, watch the footage before it had been swiftly removed straight to Director Fury, she had even managed to get a copy of it to Barton, for which she is pretty sure she could get fired, but that is the least of her worries. Phil never even asked about it, perhaps he wanted Fury to see it, to see what he had awakened. She wondered what she should do, the bathroom has gone thankfully silent again, she isn't Barton, she can't give him comfort like he would, Coulson was clearly in some sort of shock, she should probably get medical help but he wouldn't want that, there wasn't much realistically that she can do, so she just settled for being there? 

 

She made her way across to the bathroom, not much more than a closet, he is slumped over, forehead resting on the rim of the bowl, a shadow of the man he usually was. He looks up at her for the first time, forehead beaded with sweat, skin pale, eyes rimmed with red and frighteningly vacant, a far cry from the humorous intelligent look in his eyes normally. May reaches to the sink and soaks a face cloth under the cold water and rings it out, cautiously she bent down, conscious of the effect touching him had last time, she gingerly touched his lower back, which seems safe enough and then gently wiped the cloth across his face, grateful when his eyes catch hers with a touch of awareness, when he doesn't react badly, she slips a hand around his arm.

 

“Come on, lets get you back to bed,” surprised but happy that he doesn't resist as she pulled him up and walked him back to the bed where he sat on the edge, clearly exhausted. She knelt down beside him, untied his shoes and slipped them off with his socks. Movements slow and clear, she reached up and undid his tie which is still loosely hung around his neck, released the first two buttons of his shirt near the collar. She gently pushed him back onto his back lifting his feet on so he is laying flat, head resting on his pillow, she flicked the lamp light off. 

 

“Go to sleep, Phil,” She coaxed. Standing up, she started to walk away but is stopped as his hand quick reached out to hold her wrist tightly, when she looked down its into his pleading eyes. 

 

Melinda sighed and looked across at the door, his hand fell away in defeat and she walked across the room, she reached for the handle, hesitated as she turned back to the bed and to see him watching her. She wavered for a moment more before closing the door. 

 

May walked back to the bed, sits down, removed her boots and jacket and lay stiffly beside him. She stretched out her hand and found his wrist and laying her hand flat against it, turning her head he is still watching her, eyes darting a little from side to side, as if his thoughts are jumbling around from one thing to the next. Her breath caught as he suddenly curled into her, resting his head on her chest. She doesn't touch him apart from the loose hand on his arm and they lay in silence. 

 

There is only a few hours of the night left, but he doesn't sleep and neither does she. When the sun comes up, they get out of bed at the same time, he looked a little embarrassed, a lot tired and very rumbled, a view very few agents would have seen of Agent Philip J Coulson, she thought, and felt oddly privileged. He said an awkward thanks, only glancing up at her briefly, she nodded her head once, put her boots, picked up her jacket and left.


	4. I have hours, only lonely, my love is vengeance, that's never free.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't fool Clint with business as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to Veriscence for the Beta.

He reaches for the phone as it began to ring. The voice on the end is familiar. In fact it was the one he had spoken to last night.

“Clint.”

“God, Phil, are you all right?”

“I wanted to apologize for ringing you last night,” Phil's voice sounds bland and in control.

“Don't.”

“I appreciate it but I had no right to dump my problems onto you.”

Clint doesn't know quite what to say to that, he wants to scream down the phone, that yes, he does have the right as his partner but he isn't, not right now. So all he says is, “It's fine, I'm glad you felt you could ring me.”

“I was a little lost... Sorry, I’m fine now.”

“Hmm,” Clint doesn't sound convinced, “they've sent you off again, important mission?”

“No, I think they just wanted me out of the way,” Phil snorts lightly, “while they decide what to do with the monster they have created.

“You know. I didn't notice any bolts coming out of your neck last time I saw you,” Clint says with humour.

“No, but you saw the scars right,” Phil actually laughs.

Clint pauses not wanting to be reminded of those scars and the pain they have caused both of them, he asks gently, “Did you get any answers, when they held you?”

“Some, mostly more questions,” he laughs harshly, “on the up side you can tell Stark, I’m not a android, LMD or a robot, although that will probably disappoint him.”

“Yeah, you are probably right,” Clint chuckles, before saying seriously, “Stark's worried about you, you know?”

Coulson quips back quickly, “Why, is he worried I’m going to take his basket case of the year crown this year?”

“You know, you are being an asshole, right?”

“Yes, I’m perfectly aware of that,” he agrees lightheartedly.

“And you know it's not working.”

“How so?” Phil questions.

“I'm just as worried about this jovial side as I was about the silent one last night,” Clint says sincerely.

“Oh,” Phil's voice drops as if disappointed.

Clint pauses, not sure whether to admit that he has seen the video but he's not willing to pretend so says, “I saw the footage, Phil.”

There is a brief silence, before Phil says gravely, “May.”

“Yeah, but she only...”

“It’s all right, I owe her one for last night, I'll let her live this one time.”

Clint snorts, “Like you could take her out, old man... but I'm glad she was there for you,” he finishes soberly.

“She stayed with me all night.”

“Should I be jealous,” it slips out before he can stop himself, and Phil doesn't laugh, that's when he knew he had left himself open to a conversation he didn't want to have yet. So he wasn't surprised when Phil earnestly says, “It would be nice to think you were.”

Damn, it was his own fault, one flippant remark and Phil was fishing for where their relationship stood. But Clint isn't ready and it was probably cruel under these circumstances not to answer but he was all too aware that it would be too easy to fall back into a relationship with him. So he side stepped, “Well, you are a very attractive man, I wouldn't be surprised,” forcing a laugh into it.

Phil doesn't answer straight away and his voice held a touch of disappointment but never-the-less tried to make his voice light, “I never did understand that.”

“What?”

“What you ever saw in me.”

Clint playfully says back, “yeah, well that’s always part of the charm.”

Phil wisecracks proudly, “are you saying I charmed you into bed.” 

“There was that, plus the fact that, you are completely oblivious to how sexy you are in those suits, warm hearted, competent, self effacing, and honest,” he pauses for a moment and says partly jokingly, “Well maybe the last part has taken a battering lately.”

The older man groans, but hearing the humour in the comment,“and it had all been going so well.”

Phil pauses and then continues purposefully, “You're my hero, you know.”

Clint snickers, “I thought that was Captain America.”

“It was, and then I met him, and great guy and all, but I realised I had something so much better at home already.”

“And there you go with the charm again,” Clint laughs.

“I was talking about that lovely shiny coffee machine I have sitting on the kitchen counter obviously.”

Clint laughs out loud, “Obviously.”

He sounds so normal, Barton thinks, but that’s what he's always been good at, that’s why he was probably the best undercover Agent, SHIELD had ever had; he blends in with any background, he could probably stand bare arsed naked in a bar and still not be noticed. He can hide himself in plain sight and that is precisely what he seems to be attempting to do right now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clint asks seriously, trying to draw the man out.

“No... not over the phone for sure.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Honestly I don't know, not much I can do from here, which is precisely why they sent me.” He seems to think for a minute and adds, “It will be a miracle if I ever set foot on home soil again.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” he answers a little too quickly.

“Are you lying to me?” Frowning down the phone.

“Probably,” he observes.

“Will you phone me, if you need help?”

There is a delay down the line, and Phil's voice is soft and hesitant as he responds, “If you don't mind?”

“I don't,” Clint says firmly.

“Okay.”

“Good.”

Clint can't quite let it rest though and says fiercely, “God, Phil, someone needs to pay for what they did to you, and I’m willing help... but I can't say... to have you are back, I can't be sorry about that.”

Phil sighs heavily down the phone, it's something he was battling with himself, “I know, I can't say I’m sorry that I'm back but...” his voice stops and Clint knows he won't say more on the subject.

“Clint... Just one more thing, last night...”

Barton had a feeling this was coming, he didn't think he would get away with the same play twice, so said, “Melinda?”

“Yes, look, I appreciated it... needed it last night, I really did, thank you, but she is part of my team, I can't...”

“I know,” Clint said with a sigh, “But just so you know I will be phoning her to find out how you really are, that's none negotiable.” Phil once again sighs down the line, “But I won't send her in again, but that’s the best you are getting from me so don't even start, okay?”

Barton is a little surprised when Phil agrees wearily with an, “Okay.”

The conversation is coming to an end. Phil sounds tired as he says, “thanks for this, it's been nice to chat.”

“Yes it has,” Clint says and means it.

“Goodnight Clint, I lo...” he says it without conscious thought, stopping it mid word, hoping he hasn't just ruined everything, it hangs in the air.

“It's okay,” Barton soothes aware of the sudden tension, “goodnight Phil.”

“Night,” Phil answers softly and then the only sound is the dial tone, as they both hold onto their phones tightly.


	5. No one bites back as hard on their anger.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the Director.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again go to Veriscence, for going above and beyond on this chapter and giving me the push to make it better! 
> 
> This is a longer chapter because Fury takes up a lot of space.

 

 

The day had started oddly, his phone beeping to signal a text message. It started like this:

_Clint,_

_I'm on my way home, I hate to ask but can you to do something for me?_

 

The rest of the message had gone into great detail of what was wanted, as you would expect the whole thing was planned to precision in true Phil Coulson style.

 

The street light was the only illumination in the dark, as Clint stood on the corner near the small café was near enough to SHIELD HQ to be convenient, but far enough that most of the agents went elsewhere. He knew the shop well, it had been a favourite haunt of the most senior members for just that reason, as they would be unlikely and they would say unlucky to come across juniors. For as long as he and Phil had been together, he had become well acquainted with the place, if Phil could be (and there was an element of doubt) prised away from his desk this is where they came.

It was late, the shop was usually closed by now but Clint knew the owner well (drank a large proportion of his stock) and with a little financial incentive he had happily felt confident enough to give Clint his spare set of keys with the understanding that nothing was touched. The keys where posted back through the door once they had finished, with a text message to say they were done.

He had met Phil here about half an hour ago, the older man was just in from the airport, Lola parked safely out of the way of prying eyes. Phil looked good considering, a little tired but to be honest he had been expecting worse. He had raised his eyes at the casual clothes, even for Clint, who had spent all his non working time with Phil it was unusual to see him out and about like it. They had shared a wonderfully long hug the minute he had stepped into the shop, If Clint had breathed in Phil's scent a little to long nobody was any the wiser. The owner of the café had kindly made them a coffee before he had made himself scarce.

They had sat quietly opposite each other and sipped from their cups. They had talked briefly of Phil's last mission, Clint had asked him how he was, Phil had shrugged his shoulders, looked away, and not said anything. Phil wasn't a chatter box by any standards unless you got him spouting off about some memorabilia that he owned or had always hankered after (then he would wax lyrical), but he was very quiet even for him. The man was eerily still, sitting here, and Clint found himself in the uncomfortable situation of trying to force the conversation, with overly enthusiastic babble, the whole time the usual sparkle had not reached the other man eyes as he sat across from him. He hoped he would have time with Phil once this meeting was over to... talk, maybe they could go back to his apartment spend some time together... he found himself wanting to try to draw the man out. The old Phil Coulson would have told Clint what was going on before now, it worried Clint, if he was honest, that he hadn't shared any information with him yet, perhaps he was reading too much into it, perhaps Phil didn't have much to tell him, but Clint was only human and doubt was starting to creep in, his trust in Phil had been all but eroded by what had happened after the battle of New York and the revelations that superseded it. He was acutely aware that he needed to be careful, he could get pulled back in by his attraction, an attraction that never diminished, as soon as he had caught sight of the man again it had kicked in, but did he trust him? He wanted to trust him; he used to trust him with his life but... the lack of give and take was trying. He should just give Phil time, it would be all right, he had promised there would be no more secrets, and Clint so wanted to believe that, he missed him so much.

Phil was inside now, while he waited outside; Coulson had wanted to make sure the coming conversation was completely private and secure. Phil's plan would hopefully draw out the man he wanted to met without him being aware of what he was walking into, although Barton seriously challenged the idea that the man ever walked into anything uninformed but Phil was convinced if he knew, he wouldn't turn up. So far he hadn't anyway, so maybe the plan wasn't so Coulson water tight, but just as those thoughts frittered through his brain, the man in question turned round the corner like a force of nature, if there had been anyone on the quiet streets, he would surely have them scurried out the way of the dark force that was Director Nick Fury of SHIELD.

“Barton, I should have known this had your name written all over it. What do you want?”

“Me, sir? I don't want anything but...” Clint nodded his head into the shop.

Fury didn't look into the shop, but his eye widened as he realised what was going on, “Here to visit an old friend am I?”

“Yes sir, if you would step in,” he said opening the door for the Director.

Fury wrinkled his nose at Barton, made a grumbling sound, but still moved to the door and carried on through into the café.

Clint followed him in, locked the door and pulled the blinds down to prevent them being disturbed.

“Director.” Phil stood up and came round the table somewhat hesitantly, coming to stop a couple of meters away. Clint nearly flinched, he so wanted Phil to regain some of that extreme confidence that he used to possess. This man was, confident, yes, no doubt he was still the man that got the job done, but there was a edge of softness to him that wasn't the Coulson from the past, not in these sort of situations, because Barton knew that Fury would eat him up alive if he let that show through. Phil used to be so good at handling the Director, not that you would EVER suggest that Nick Fury was being handled but Coulson had a way of letting all the bluster wash over his head with that little smirk on his face that you could never tell whether it infuriated or impressed the imposing man.

“Coulson, you got some balls, getting me here,” Fury blasted straight off, “you might not have them much longer though!”

“Yes sir, but I want answers,” Clint smiled, that's the steel he wanted.

“You want answers...” Fury said and shook his head at the bottle of the man in front of him, “so what you think you can just call me down here like some drinking buddy?”

“I thought we were drinking buddies, Nick. We used to be, didn't we?”

“Yes we did, but then you _used_ to have a healthy respect for authority too,” He paused before finishing, “You need to trust the system, to know what's right for you and for SHIELD.”

“I did... I do, but what you did to me...I can't...” Phil's head tilted to the side not looking at Fury or Barton.

“And you brought the fucking cellist too,” Fury continued, avoiding what the man had just said, “What's he here for, to serenade me?”

“This has nothing to do with Clint, he was just doing me a favour,” Phil's stance straightened in his defence.

“He shouldn't even be anywhere near you.”

Phil looks confused by that statement, “Then why did you send him in to get my team out of that Hydra base.”

“I didn't you, ass-hole, somebody screwed up in my offices, just sent the nearest available agent, not surprisingly they don't work there any more.”

Phil shook his head, “Did you think you could keep the secret indefinitely?”

Fury shrugged, “It was working.”

“Why, what was the point of keeping us apart?”

Fury paused for a moment, the hesitation was too long, it made Phil instantly think he was about to be told a lie, “They are the Avengers, Coulson, what do you think, they are just going say 'hey don't worry about lying to us', don't you think I have enough crap from the WSC? ”

“I don't understand, they would have got over it. I could have...”

“That's the trouble, though isn't it,” Barton let his tongue run off a little, he had been a bit pissed by Fury's dismissive attitude of him as the Cellist, “Phil could have papered over the cracks far too well for your liking, and if Phil suddenly decides he doesn't want to be a team player, are you a little afraid of what he could achieve, Director?” Barton finished from near the door.

Fury laughed initially, “Don't be a fool,” but he turned serious again and spat, “who the hell rattled your cage anyway, Barton, go back to being the broody body guard, it suits you better.”

Barton took a step towards Fury in anger.

Coulson put his hand up to stop him further and Clint immediately stopped, but Barton held his ground and made no move to go backwards. Fury smirked at him.

Phil was still looking puzzled, “What possible threat could I hold?”

Fury snorted in derision, “You my friend, possess all sorts of threats,” he smiles warmly, “and I have seen and used them over the years to defend this world time after time, but not the one that Barton here, is implying.”

Barton ignored him, “Coulson's always been you right hand man, the skills he's got, he's your go to man, he probably knows the name of every single member of SHIELD, do you, Director? Can you walk past junior agents and call them by their name? He can, imagine the friends he has. I think you know damn well that if push came to shove it wouldn't be easy to pick sides.”

“Pick sides?” Phil asked quietly but both men were too affixed upon glaring at each other to pay attention to his query.

“And the Avengers, they're already pretty pissed with you.”

“Oh really,” Fury said sarcastically, even as Clint continued, “Nat and me, your allies are starting to drop away, Director, You messed with his head, saved him at all costs, and now he's starting to piece it altogether, and that's what you were worried about all along, that's why you isolated him, you're not certain where you stand with him any more, he could be a bit of a loose canon, and you have no one but yourself to blame.”

Fury filtered out what he wanted from the tirade, used his undoubted skills to try and turn the advantage back, “Saved him?” He snorted and turned back to Phil in time for him to see Coulson's head shoot up, he shook it slightly at Fury, making the man smirk with the knowledge he had hit home.

Barton ignored it though, and saw Fury turn backed towards him with distaste, “You were afraid that man standing there could actually bring SHIELD down to its knees and you with it.”

Phil gasped, at that, and whispered more to himself than anyone else, “the clairvoyant... sees an end to all that.”

Fury laughed angrily, “You are full of shit, Barton.” He pointed at his old friend, “that man standing there is Philip J. Coulson, and he just happens to be the finest agent I have ever served with, do you honestly think he would preside over something like that?”

Barton smiled, “actually no, I don't, but I’m not sure it would stop somebody using his name to stir up trouble in the ranks and in todays climate things escalate rather quickly and before you know it 'poof' you're out of a job, or dead, or both!”

Coulson stared at both of them horrified, “I couldn't... I wouldn't, Nick you have to know that?”

“No you couldn't,” the scowl he has aimed at Barton softened, as he turned back to Coulson, voice sounding confident, but then Phil has never heard anything other than confidence in that voice, that's what always made him such a good leader.

“Still doesn't answer my question, how did you do it?”

“I sent you all the god damn medical notes,” the cool tone returned. That's news to Clint, his eyebrow slipped up to look at him but Coulson is too intent on facing his boss down.

“They conveniently only start once they begin operating on me!” Phil backed up a little as if he wants to create more space to breath in, “Why do it at all?”

“Why?” Fury's voice was indignant, “Why do you fucking think?”

Coulson's voice was strong as he said, “No, I can't accept that,” he shook his head in denial, “I can remember things, you wouldn't have put me through that, not in the name of friendship.”

“Think what you like,” The directors voice said with animosity.

“I'm sick of all the lies, and secrets. Nick, just tell me... please,” his voice taking on a bitter edge.

“Don't talk to me about secrets as if it's all my fault, you went along with the whole Avenger charade.”

“I know and I regret it,” Phil said looking Clint directly in the eyes.

“Really,” Fury noticed the look and said scornfully, “and how about now?”

“What?” Coulson swallowed.

“Barton here seems to be under the impression that we saved you, Coulson, we didn't save you, we brought you back from the dead.”

Clint piped up confidently, “He told me that Director, he was dead for forty seconds before you got him back.”

“Forty seconds,” Nicks sneered, turning back towards Hawkeye for a second before eyeing Coulson again, causing Barton to frown, “He's lying to you, Barton, again, he doesn't even trust you, to tell you the truth.”

“Don't.” the shorter man said angrily.

“Why do you think he's really here Barton, sure he's a little pissed with me for not letting him die, when he begged like a baby for it but...”

He telegraphed the manoeuvre too much, Phil realised too late, anger got the better of him, Fury was waiting, taunting him into it, he should have seen the tacit for what it was, divide and conquer, but he missed it, like he has a tendency to do now on occasion, not just gun rusty then, so when he made his move towards the man, Fury was ready and easily countered the grab that Coulson made. Its only seconds before he had Phil pinned against the wall using his extra bulk to his advantage, forearm across the smaller man's throat, pressing hard enough to be taken seriously, even as Phil tried to struggle out of it. What Fury hadn't counted on was unpredictable nature of Clint Barton and Fury's move is quickly followed by Barton's who had his gun pushing against the directors head, finger on the trigger.

Coulson's eyes went wide at the sight and he goes immediately limp and raised his hands in submission. It's one thing for him to physically attack the Director, but he doesn't want to get Clint sent off to the cells with him, and Barton is holding a gun to his head. If he backs off now perhaps they can all get out of here.

“Put the gun away Clint,” he breathed out round the arm pressed against his windpipe. “Its okay, stop now.”

“I suggest you do as he says before you disappear somewhere nobody will find you.”

Fury's loosened his hold a little, giving Phil the opportunity, to look directly at Clint his eyes pleading with him not to do something stupid.

Barton made a noise of disgust in his throat, leaned forward and hissed into Fury's ear, “this is what he means to us, do you get it now,” before he slowly pulled back and took a step away, holstering his gun as he does. Fury growled, actually growled deep in his throat, turned his head, and spared Hawkeye a brief seething glare before focussing back on Coulson.

“What did you think you were going to achieve here today, Phil, beat the answers out of me?” Fury's voice is like flint.

Phil, still holding his hands up, palms outwards in a non threatening manner, “I... I hoped you would tell me the truth. As a friend, Nick.”

“I'm not your friend here, Agent Coulson,” he said harshly, making Phil flinch, “I'm Director Fury and I should have both your asses arrested and throw away the god damn key.”

“I can't... I need to know Nick, please,” His eyes filled with tears he wouldn't let fall. He ducked his head away as much as possible with Fury's arm still holding him in place.

“Don't fucking cry on me,” he said more softly than at any time since he had entered into the café, “man,” Nick pushed once on his arm and then withdrew it, letting his fingers run down across Phil's shoulder and down his chest to rest his hand over Coulson's heart.

He looked, into the man's eyes and said gently, “All you need to do is carry on; you're the same man you always were.”

“No, no I’m not, but somebody made me realise recently, that it doesn't matter who you are right now, that can be changed if you want it enough, as long as you know...remember... where you came from to start with...and I don't know that any more, you stole that from me Nick,” He looked defiantly, “and I won't stop trying to find that out.”

Nick looked back at him sadly and let his hand fall away, “and I won't stop preventing you from doing it.”

Phil looked dishearteningly at his friend in front of him, “Why, because it's bad?”

Fury leaned forward and said quietly but with force, “because it's classified,” before he stepped back and turned away heading for the door, unlocking and opening it. He paused and looked across at Barton angrily, “You ever pull that shit on me again and I’ll hand Romanoff a set of forceps so she can pull the bullet out of your brain personally, understand?”

“Yes sir,” Barton answered, knowing the man meant every word.

With that he headed out the door, slamming it shut on the way out.

Phil sighed heavily and walked slowly up to the recently shut door and stared out into the night silently.

The silence continued for a minute, before Clint's voice echoed out dangerously from the corner, “So tell me Phil, what have you been lying about this time?”

Coulson's back straightened visibly, head lifting at the words and tone. He had forgotten what Fury had said to Hawkeye, in the aftermath that followed. 

“It's not like that, Clint,” the voice was weary as Barton has ever heard but he's not letting that influence him this time.

“Really, cause it sounded important to me, and you promised me...” He walked to the door waiting for the man to turn and face him.

“I... it was just that...” He sighed tiredly trying to make his brain start working after the adrenaline fall out of his encounter with Fury.

“You know what,” Clint said angrily, “I've had it, you can't be honest with me, even now.”

Phil shook his head in denial as he realised how serious this had gotten, Clint had obviously been ruminating in the corner for some time, despite his instinctive defence of Phil when he had been attacked, he had been obviously mulling over what Fury had said, and now he was ready to let rip. “No Clint, wait, let me explain.”

“It's too late, you've just been using me this whole time, just to get your answers, you had no intention to share anything with me, did you?”

“No!” Then realised how that sounded, and said quickly, “Yes... yes of course I was going...” But Clint was already interrupting before he could finish. 

“It's easy, isn't it, throw the archer a bone occasional just enough to keep him dangling and he'll come running back every time for more,” Clint pushed past the man to the door, shrugging off Phil's hand as it tried to stop him. “You're not doing this to me again, just leave me alone.”

“Clint, please, don't go,” Phil cried, as the man opened the door hastily.

“You left me, remember?” Clint spat back angrily.

“I died, I couldn't help that!”

“So I keep hearing, but then as far as I know it was for forty fucking seconds, and from first hand accounts that appears to be a lie, another lie, that I still don't know about and the medical records they just slip your mind too!” He moved out the door and started walking away.

Phil's voice raised as he watched the retreating back heading down the road, “Clint, please, I was going to tell you, I promise,” He watched in despair as the man didn't even break his stride, and said quietly to himself, “I just needed a little time with you on my own.”

He closed the door softly and stood in the middle of the now empty shop, knowing there is no point in following, Clint could easily lose him, he walked over to the first table, and rested his hands on the top of the wooden chair, his grip tightened until the knuckles turn white, he pulled the chair back rapidly, away from the table, lifted it high in the air above his head and speedily smashed it down onto the floor, before he lifted it again and again until it was completely demolished.

He only stopped when the chair is completely in pieces, sinking to his knees, mouth open in a silent scream, his face red, tears ran freely down his pale skin. His whole world represented by the chair that surrounded him, fragmented and broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you won't like this ending but no pain, no gain ;)


	6. None of my pain and woe can show through.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil tries to get through a wall of muscle to talk to Clint!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my Beta Veriscence.

Phil was surprised, tired and surprised.

The fact that he was in Tony Stark's elevator, humming along to Frank Sinatra's New York, New York and on the way up the tower, was definitely surprising, not the humming part but the elevator bit although he wasn't well know for humming so it was all a bit unanticipated. He had of course had to announce who he was to Jarvis and the AI had been very cordial in his greeting, when the doors opened onto the living quarters of Stark Tower he didn't expect the same. He was still amazed he had been allowed off the ground floor and not escorted off the premises by security. Clint was in residence, Jarvis had told him so, Phil had every intention of throwing himself at the man and begging for forgiveness (although beg was a bit of a sore word for him right now). Coulson was just relieved that he had found him, he had already been to his official apartment (well his official apartment when he wasn't at Stark Towers anyway) only to find it dark and deserted, and frankly he only had SHIELD HQ to fall back on after that if this one hadn't worked out and he couldn't really imagine Clint wanting to return there any time soon. The fact that Clint had obviously agreed to this meeting, otherwise he surely would still be on the ground floor, was yes, he would say it again because basically his brain had turned to jelly hours ago, surprising and welcome. Perhaps things weren't as bad as he had feared.

 

His hand tightened on the file he was holding as the doors opened with a ping, and Phil even with his jelly brain re-evaluated that statement, maybe they were worse!

 

As he looked out into a wall of super heroes, Phil's eyes flicked back to the controls and he seriously wondered if pressing the ground floor button might after all be the wisest decision but he could see through the line of Stark, Banner, and Rogers, the slumped figure of Barton sitting on the arm of the couch not looking at him at all. Phil was here for him, to try and make him aware just how much his scarred and battered heart, belonged to him, he would fight his way through the bouncers, if necessary, even if that was an overly optimistic goal!

****************************

It had taken Phil, half an hour just to pull himself off the floor of the café after he had wrecked a chair and thoroughly lost his temper (he would have to go back and apologies, which would probably involve a lot of money!) He had headed straight for the men's room, stared at the man in the mirror, eyes puffy, a face full of snort and tears, and grimaced at the reflection. It was the first time he had truly let himself go since Centipede had taken him... and did he feel better for it, the simple answer was no, he felt embarrassed, angry and weary of everything but he'd also had the simple revelation, that actually it wasn't what had happened to him after he's so called death that had sent him finally spiralling but the fact that Clint had walked away from him, he realised he wanted Clint more than he wanted answers and he had probably messed that up spectacularly. He was the epiphany of you don't know what you lost till you loss it, but even that wasn't true, he had always known how wonderful Clint was, he just got too self involved, wallowing too much in his own pain to see Clint still trying to stand beside him through it all and he was an idiot, and anger bubbled up out of his pores. He was a man who thrived on control and his was a pale imitation of what it used to be, in fact, he was a pale imitation of what he used to be. He had ducked his head under the water from the sink, letting the cool liquid run down his face, some of it running down the back of his collar, he didn't care. He scrubbed his face with his fingers and finally used a paper towel to rub it dry. Looking back up, he looked better, eyes were still swollen and his face rather blotchy but the cold air outside would probably hide the signs.

***************************

The Avengers, minus Thor who was probably on Asgard and Natasha, Phil noted for the future that she would probably kick his ass another time (something to look forward too), looked stony faced as if he was a terrible disappointment to them all. He probably was, he had personally gone along with the ruse to keep them in the dark, so now he had to pay the consequences, problem was he was becoming jaded to having to apologies again and again, and now he wasn't entirely sure whether he was having to apologies for not being dead or for upsetting Barton, probably both knowing his run of luck lately.

His last meeting with Stark had ended with them not actually talking, he had been back just a few hours from the desert and in no place to speak to anyone, Stark must have picked that up though as he hadn't made any fuss about leaving empty handed. For the other two this was a first and although Phil needed to sit down with them and try explain at some point, he really didn't want to do it now, his body and mind was starting to flag from the horrendous day and now night, and he just wanted to talk to Clint.

 

He took a hesitating step out of the elevator, “I wanted to speak to Clint,” he said, getting straight to the point. It sent Steve Rogers eyebrow shooting up in the familiar manner.

 

“Evening, Agent Coulson, nice to see you too,” Stark said sarcastically.

 

“I told you to leave me alone,” Clint rumbled.

 

“I want to explain, Clint, please,” Phil tried to crane his head round the wall of muscle in front of him to see Barton.

“I don't think we have anything left to discuss.”

 

He sighed, he had hoped to speak privately with Clint but that didn't seem to be on the cards, “I had planned to talk to you after the meeting with Fury.”

 

“Convenient excuse, we'll never know now will we?”

 

“You met Fury?” Stark piped up, he voice a little high, and turned round to Barton, “you didn't mention it was Fury that you where meeting.”

 

Clint just shrugged, as if to say, so what.

 

Phil didn't move forward but sidestepped so he could get a better view of the man on the couch. “I brought the file. I had it with me in the car to show you.”

 

“What file?” Stark interrupted, causing Phil to frown, his grip tightened on the pack in his hand.

 

The elevator doors opened behind him, once more with the now familiar ping. Phil fleetingly wondered if it was Natasha; and if it was, whether he had time to turn around before she broke his neck. Stiletto shoes took several steps in before abruptly stopping.

 

“PHIL!” The voice sounded completely astonished and happy from behind him, and he turned at the familiar sound, “Oh my god, it is you!” The turn was barely completed and Coulson braced himself quickly before Pepper rushed toward him and wrapped her arms around him. She continued to talk, “when they told me you were alive, I couldn't believe it. It's so good to see you,” she leaned back to look him in the face, tears in her eyes, and he couldn't stop the smile that over took his face and he hugged her again tightly, it was so nice to find someone actually pleased to see him or look at him without pity in their eyes.

 

She pulled back but kept a hand round his shoulder and turned, with a huge smile on her face to the stone faced avengers, her smile faulted and she said, “Oh,” picking up the atmosphere. She turned a puzzled head towards Phil, who ducked his head down. She dropped her hand from his shoulder and Phil suddenly felt more alone than ever. “I'm just going to sit over here,” she said to Phil, pointing tentatively at the couch adjacent to Clint, half in apology, obviously not understanding what was happening. He could only nod his head and quirked his lips up slightly in encouragement.

 

“Clint?” He turned towards the man hopefully.

 

“Just go Phil,” he said despondently, unhappiness written in every line of his body. Coulson sighed deeply. He had truly lost the best thing in his life, he felt wiped out. All fight seemed to desert him; maybe it was best just to go.

 

“The files, Agent Coulson, what are they?” Stark asked narrowing his eyes.

 

“Tony,” Barton said in warning.

 

“What,” Tony turned towards Clint, “you come in all moody, 'I don't ever want to see Coulson again',” emphasizing the sentence with his fingers “and then he turns up with files, and you are still moody MOODY, and I'm just saying if he wants you to go off on some top secret dodgy mission, that obviously pisses you off, then we have a right to know what's going down, as your fight buddies.”

 

Barton glanced across at Phil, because Clint still after everything that has happened doesn't think he deserved to hear the 'I don't ever want to see Coulson again' remark even if, he's still disappointed in him and he had _actually_ said it, but Phil doesn't see anyway as he had his head down dejectedly, damn, Phil had perfected that hang dog look and it's a blast from the past for Clint, as that look had playfully got him all sorts of favours out of him when they were together! But this wasn't playful; to Clint it looked like Phil Coulson was about to give up and that truly was a first.

 

Stark turned suddenly back at the loud sound of something hitting the floor in front of him and looked down to see the file that Phil had been clinging onto at his feet the cover open and pictures floating out across the floor, the very photo's that Coulson had looked at time and time again on the bus, in horror.

 

The three avengers looked down at the contents, with a mixture of flinches and frowns, Coulson said hoarsely, “You wanted to see, so there you go,” he bitterly continued, “Everything you ever wanted to know about me, not a mission, not anything to even do with you, but please feel free to trawl through for all the juicy bits,” anger started to take his last reserves of strength , he wanted nothing but to leave and sleep but he continued aware that he was losing control yet again (which was probably more times in one day than in the whole of his life!) but not able to stop himself, “In fact, Clint has one more thing you can all watch, show them Barton.”

 

“What, no,” Clint instantly knew that Coulson was talking about the flash drive Melinda given him, of Phil's detention at the hand of Centipede, he got to his feet and shook his head with a faintly horrified look on his face, the urge to protect Coulson strong still.

 

“Come on, show them” insisted the man.

 

“Phil no, they don't need to see that,” he voice had a pleading edge to it, it's always been the other way round with them, Coulson was the sensible one, he would talk Clint down from making mistakes not this, this feels all wrong.

 

“Show them,” the agent said almost through gritted teeth. Pepper was on her feet as well now; an embarrassing uneasiness surrounded the room at what was unfolding.

 

Clint shook he head again at Phil.

 

“NOW!”

 

The Avengers look from one to the other, Banner, noticeably jumped as Coulson shouted out the last command. Rogers showed signs of more and more anxiety, as if he was watching a soldier fall apart on front, shell shock they used to call it, PTSD now and Captain America looked like he could be sick any moment and to his disgust has pity in his eyes, another one to add to Phil's pity list.

 

Barton reached into his pocket, he had got into the habit of carrying it with him for safety, and he fervently wished he had destroyed it now. He came angrily round the couch and thumped the gadget into Stark's hand before he moved off glaring at the other two men, and turning the scowl on Coulson, who has visibly slumping into himself, the anger of a few seconds ago drained out of him.

 

Stark placed the drive into his pad bringing it up to a large screen on the wall facing Coulson, it forced everyone to turn away from him, which suited him just fine, he didn't want them looking at him, while they watched.

 

He really didn't know what had come over him, he was a bloody wreck of a man and he needed to get away, he couldn't help the flinch as the footage started. He quietly turned back to the elevator and pushed the button to call it up. He pulled air in through his nose as he steeled himself against the echoes of his screams playing on the screen as they had tortured him in that shabby little room of mannequins.

 

He was so tired, he leaned his arm against the edge of the lift bracing himself upright, dropped his head between his shoulder blades, every part of his body felt heavy, he vaguely heard what his thought was Captain America's voice as he said “this is wrong,” and his body shudders at the familiar words, “we shouldn't be watching this, it's time we told the...” He was interrupted by another voice Phil can't even process, but he tried to listen he really did, he listened but heard nothing as the voices faded away into background noise.

 

He sighed in relief as the elevator door opened and he tried to stumble forward but a hand wrapped itself round his arm. He seriously wanted to cry, he had got so close to his goal, he looked down at the hand, a female hand, and then up into the Pepper's warm nervously smiling face, but he wanted to scream, as her eyes held the inevitable pity that everybody seemed to look at him with now.

 

“I don't think you should go, Phil.”

 

“I'm tired.” he said as if it was the answer to everything.

 

“I know,” she said gently, and he actually wonders what time it must be now. “But I don't think you should go like this.”

 

“I'm tired,” he was pretty sure she wouldn't be convinced of his ability to cross the road on his own, by repeating himself, especially as she was frowning with worry, but in the background he heard his own voice reverberated, 'everything is dark'

 

“I need to go.”

 

“Phil, I’m worried about you, do you even know where you are right now?” Great, now she was questioning his sanity.

 

He smiled, he had been trained for this, “Stark Towers, Miss Potts, my name is Agent Philip Coulson, it's Wednesday and if push came to shove I could probably dreg up the name of the President too.” He can't help be disappointed when the elevator door close again without him inside, now he will have to call it back up again.

She laughed, mission accomplished, perhaps she would let him go now but then his voice rings out over the speakers again, and he has to make a grab for the wall, 'please let me die' and Pepper isn't looking at him anymore but at the screen and her hand tightened on his arm. The video thankfully came to a stop, a stunned silence followed for a few seconds before Captain Rogers tried to say something again only to be shot down by Stark and Clint is standing beside them now, Pepper's attention turned to raised voices.

 

“What were you going to say, Rogers?” His ex boyfriend said.

 

“Nothing,” Stark answers for him.

 

He turned away from them, Pepper was looking at him again and he just wanted to reach out and hit the button again, but she was rubbing her hand up and down his arm soothingly and god damn it felt nice having someone touching him, he can't help glancing at Clint wishing it was his hand but the arguing between the boys is escalating and Phil vaguely wondered if he should step in, but he really couldn't be bothered, to tell the truth. Pepper had let go of his arm once again, she started to take interest in altercation as Clint's sweet baritone got louder, and riled, which doesn't happen often, perhaps Phil should be listening to the content, he thought he hazily heard Barton as he savagely said, “Are you saying that you where there, all along?” but jelly brain remember and Coulson thinks it's unlikely Clint will ever be able to be heard above Stark anyway, 'Fat Chance' Phil giggled to himself. Boy, giggling to oneself even if it's in your own head can't be a good sign. He really needs to go before any of these thoughts leave his mouth, although the idea of Stark and Barton mud wrestling was somewhat intriguing, but no he _really_ needs to go before his brain started to dribble out of his ears.

 

“Crap,” he muttered, as a decidedly male hand grips his arm this time. It tried to tug him towards the fray and Phil just about managed to get his finger on the elevator button again and press, he was so tired but he was also a stubborn son of a bitch at heart and dug his heals in.

 

“You need to hear this.” He grabbed the hand, it appeared to be Clint's but who really cared at this point, and forcibly prised the fingers off none to gently, he's going to get in the damn elevator if it's the last thing he does and it kills him, which it might cause the next minute it's Pepper's hand back on his arm, and he knows it's her but he still can't stop himself reacting and he also knows it hurts as he pushed her arm away, she winched, and he's sorry, he really was for doing that. He looked up to give her an apology straight away but he never managed to open his mouth before a solid push in his chest sends him sprawling to the floor, and Phil earnestly wondered if it's time to retire because that was second time this evening that someone had gotten the jump on him.

 

Pepper shouted, “Tony,” angrily and Clint waded in, getting in Stark's face, to defend him once again, Phil really did love that man!

 

Phil watched from his position on the floor as the doors to the elevator sprang open once more and he couldn't help laughing. Which was apparently just what was needed as it shut everybody up as they looked down at him as if he has lost his mind, and not even Phil himself can argue the point.

 

Pepper and Clint both bent over him grabbed an arm each and hauled him to his feet, he wasn't sure if they don't believe he could do it all by himself or whether they're worried he might stay sat on the floor laughing fanatically, indefinitely, but Phil managed to compose himself as his feet take his weight and they let go confident he can stay upright. Stark started mouthing off again, his hands waved round wildly and Clint's attention was quickly turned back to the feud, which really could become a brawl at any moment and no one seemed left out this time apart from Phil himself even Pepper and Banner are trying to calm the situation as they all shout at the same time.

 

Coulson stepped back unnoticed one pace and then another and another, sighed with such relief that he was surprised that no one heard as the doors closed and he leaned back against the wall of elevator and pressed the ground floor button. The sound of Sammy Davis Jr. rang through his ears this time, and Phil can't help but wonder if Jarvis (probably not for the first time) was mocking him, surely his life has now become some sort of cosmic joke when the elevator starts singing;

 

_'Lately I have noticed all my friends avoiding me and that girl who loves me up and said goodbye._

_My whole world is coming apart and fallin' in on me,_

_And I guess deep down I know the reason why.'_

 

Jarvis quit the music, thank you.”

 

“Certainly, sir.”

 

Phil welcomed the silence until he can't help himself and asked, as it would be niggling at him for hours otherwise, “Jarvis, who made the original version?”

 

“It...” But the doors opened and Phil doesn't hear the rest, as before him, stood in all his glory was Clint Barton, with his trademark 'I’m damn good at my job' smirk, and Phil's pulse quickened despite himself, which is utterly ridiculous, as he is too tired for even a twitch to happen downstairs, plus the fact that Barton had well and truly blown him off (and Phil is still inordinately proud that he can come off (ha-ha) with internal puns like that, in his state of exhaustion) earlier this evening, but in all honesty he's not even sure his fingers could undo his own pants right now, so instead he pondered how the man managed to get down here before him, and seriously any number of ways knowing Barton, not one of them involved running down a flight of stairs because he wasn't in the slightest bit out of breath, even if Phil was!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Song at the end, Sammy Davis Jr. - Have a little Talk with myself.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and if you did or didn't leave me a comment, they keep me going on these cold and wet winter evenings.


	7. When my fist clenches, crack it open, before I use it and lose my cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just the boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I sat down to write a fluffy little chapter with just Phil and Clint but you know what, I don't seem to be able to do fluffy, so it's more of the same but with a sprinkling of happy along the way.
> 
> Thanks to my fab Beta Veriscence, who makes it all readable, and keeps me sane, sorry added a little bit after, so there are probably mistakes within!

 

**When my fist clenches, crack it open, before I use it and lose my cool**

 

“How did you do that?”

Clint shrugged, “There's another shaft parallel to this one”

“How come it runs faster than this one?”

“Didn't say I used the actual elevator part.” Clint smirked.

“Oh,” Phil responded and nodded his head, Clint felt sure if Coulson wasn't so obviously exhausted they would now be having a health and safety chat. As far as the archer was concerned that boiled down to dodging bullets as quickly as possible and falling off buildings with the least physical damage caused. Before Loki, if asked what that meant to Coulson, the junior agents would probably have joked avoiding paper cuts and getting coffee stains down his tie, they don't say that any more, Phil Coulson's status (if they knew he was alive of course) was legendary, and all he needed to do to get noticed was get killed by a God, who would have thought! Seeing as that was the last time they had fought together (no matter what sides they were on at the time) it was Phil that needed the refresher not him.

“You getting out of there any time soon because those doors are going to shut and I have the feeling you wouldn't want to be heading back up.”

“I thought you wanted me up there?”

“Well, yeah, seeing as it's your life they are discussing and dissecting, but, hey, you don't seem to give a fuck, so why should I. Do you have any idea what they are admitting to up there?”

“Nope.” Phil said partially truthful, his brain may have processed a little, but his mind wasn't going to let him think about the snippets he may or may not have heard. He stumbled out of the lift and arduously walked past Barton.

“Phil!” Clint sighed with exasperation.

“What!” Phil said with equal frustration.

“God, you can be a stubborn son of a bitch sometimes.”

“Bye, Clint,” Phil waved his hand in Barton's general direction as he continued weaving his way towards the exit. Barton was tempted just to leave him, grumpy bastard, but he really wasn't sure that Phil could make it anywhere on his own right now.

So he quickly caught up with him, “Stark and the rest of them have been lying to you.”

“I really... I just want to go home right now. In fact...” he stopped and looked at Clint through glazed eyes, continuing on, “a park bench, airport terminal or bus shelter will do, not much caring about anything Stark or Fury or... anyone has to say right now, so either help me or go away and tomorrow or today I guess,” he looked down at his watch peering at the small face, “you can go back to hating my guts like everyone else.”

Barton rolled his eyes; Phil wasn't listening or incapable of processing what Clint was saying. As he watched the slumped shoulders and the way Phil limped slightly (a sure tell of his exhaustion, because that leg had given him trouble for years though he would never physically let it show under normal conditions). Barton had little choice but to let tonight’s revelations go for the time being no matter the seriousness of what he had learnt and the effects it could cast over not only Phil and himself but the very fabric of the Avengers and SHIELD. No doubt about it, this was all going to hit the fan in a spectacular multicoloured dream-coat of brown!

Clint grabbed the forearm of his former handler and started to lead him out of the building, “Okay, I’m taking you home.” He watched as Phil looked up at him and smiled with relief.

“I didn't know you had rented a place, where are we going?” Barton asked.

Phil stopped dead in the street outside, confused for a second before it dawned on him, “I... haven't, shit!”

Clint laughed, “so my place, or the bus?”

Phil desperately wanted to say Clint's but somehow he mouth said with defeat, “The bus, I guess.”

He looked Phil over, the bus was at least half an hour away even in the light traffic of the middle of night, “You can stay with me tonight, come on.”

“I'm not sure that's...”

“I promise not to jump you while you're sleeping, if that helps,” Clint smiled.

“Shame,” Phil mumbled back, and then blushed at his loose tongue.

Clint held the smile as he hailed a cab, it wasn't far to walk but he didn't think Coulson was even up to that. He pushed the drained man in before him and admitted silently to himself as he settled next to Phil, who, already had his eyes closed, that his body was pretty bone weary as well. It had been a bit of a fucker of a day and tomorrow, well technically, today didn't look like it was going to be much less scandalous.

 

Clint hadn't changed his one bedroom apartment in years, if truth were told he spent very little time here, he had kept it for... well he didn't really know why he had kept it, when they were partners they had mostly spent time at Phil's apartment when not at work. But this place had been convenient at times, and it wasn't as if the money drain of rent was a problem, he owned the damned building and more often than not it was some issue with one of the other apartments as landlord that brought him back. He had been glad of the place as a bolt hole after Phil's death: he didn't always want the Avengers company, well most of the time really. The place was pretty sparse, the furniture was old but comfortable. Phil still hesitated to step over the threshold even when he had been here countless times and they had done any number of filthy licentious and highly enjoyable things to each other in every room within. Coulson peered in through the door as if seeing it for the first time and Clint found himself having to force the agent through the space so he could shut the door behind himself. He guided the ready to drop man over to the couch and watched as he slumped into the soft comfort, feeling a little surer he wouldn't bolt at the first opportunity, he headed into the kitchen.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Won't sleep.”

Clint snorted and came to the door frame leaning his shoulder against it, “Have you looked at yourself, that seems unlikely even if you took the best quality highs on the market, there ain't nothing going to stop you once your head hits the pillow.”

Phil looked at him with worn eyes, “I... I don't sleep well. I dream...”

Clint looked down, he didn't need to ask about what and he highly doubted they were less dreams and more like an endless bloody nightmares. He turned back into the kitchen.

“Do you have a blanket,” Phil called out, as Clint was puttering around, he'd grabbed a glass and filled it with water before downing it in one go.

“Huh,” he questioned as he came back to the door.

“A blanket,” Phil repeated as he bent down to untie his shoes.

Barton shook his head, “You're not sleeping out here, no way, and there is plenty of room on the bed.”

“It's fine, it's perfectly comfortable.”

“Don't be such a prude Phil, we shared a bed for years, I told you I wouldn't jump you, I pretty sure now I’m through puberty and all, I can safely keep my hands to myself.”

“I don't ...”

“Shut up,” Clint said and crossed over to the couch and snagged a hand under Coulson's shoulder lifting him to his feet without much resistance. “I'll get you a tee and some sweats,” he smirked as he added mischievously, “just in case the sight of bare flesh sends me into a frenzy.”

“Funny,” Phil huffed.

“I thought so.”

He rummaged through his closet until he found something for Phil to wear. “I'm just going to finish off in the kitchen, you know where everything is,” he said pointing to the small bathroom, and quickly exited the room to give Phil some space.

He was back ten minutes later after he had painfully slowly washed up his glass, dried it and then polished it to within an inch of its life. He had then aimlessly wandered around straightening this and that, before he felt he had given Phil enough time to get settled, he returned to his bedroom hoping not to scare Phil off to the couch or worse out the door. He expected to find him already in bed but as he walked in there was no sign of the man. The bathroom door was slightly ajar and the light from within lit the dim bedroom. “Phil?” When he received no answer he stalked quickly over to the door knocked and entered without waiting for an invitation.

Phil had put on the sweats, his clothes were neatly folded, of course, Phil was probably already thinking about having to put them back on in the morning. The man was stood in front of the basin, he didn't turn as he said in a distracted voice, looking at his bare chest in the mirror in front of him, one of his hands ghosted over the large scar there, “The initiative and Fury they were part of this, they did this too me.”

Barton mind raced at that, he had listened, to something at least, he had some grasp of the situation, how like Phil that was, to compartmentalize it until he could think it through, or maybe his thoughts had suddenly just caught up and his dull brain had processed what he had heard. Clint wasn't entirely sure if Phil was asking him a question or not, as he continued to stare into the mirror. “Yeah,” he said which was completely inadequate but he was lacking anything better.

“All of them?”

“I... I don't know...” He looked down and then back up again with more confidence, “Not Natasha,” he shook his head, “She wouldn't you know that.”

“Banner, Rogers and Stark?”

Barton hated this, he shrugged and nodded, “seems so.”

“Thor?”

“I don't know,” he had no idea if the long haired god was involved, he really didn't want to think about why he would be involved because that could involve all kinds of asgard magic’s and mojo's, and this whole situation was scary enough as it was.

Phil looked across at Clint, eyes suspiciously wet, he swallowed as he said, “You?”

“WHAT, no god, no.”

Phil nodded his head, “I know I'm... I shouldn't have... Sorry.” He looked down with guilt.

Clint should be pissed as hell but he could understand. Phil's trust must be pretty much rock bottom right now.

“Why...why would they do it?” Coulson asked and turned to Clint with fretting worried eyes.

Clint shook his head, he wants to say because they liked you and wanted to make things better, but then what Phil went through couldn't qualify for better in any-ones book. In all honesty he's not even sure why they had done it, he finds himself rocked to his very core because those were his team-mates, the very people he trusts with his life everyday out in the field, Phil's deception was more than bad enough but these men had been lying quite literary to his face the whole time, all the time knowing what he had gone through with the loss of Phil. “I don't know,” he managed to gasp out.

Phil of course can read him so well, always had done; that was why they worked together in and out of the field so well, and moment he saw Phil straighten his shoulders and pull himself up. His hand dropped away from his chest, Barton knows that Phil is about to comfort him and he feels guilty about it but warmth surrounds him too, he's not alone any more.

“It's okay Clint, we...” he hesitated over the we, but continued, “we can work this out, you're an Avenger, that's what you need to be Clint. It's more important than...”

Clint didn't want to hear any more, he knew how important the Avengers Initiative was to Phil, it had been his baby right from the start but he also knew that's not what Phil was thinking about, because Coulson also knew how important the Avengers were to Clint. He had only truly been comfortable twice in his life and the work he does with the Avengers was one, the other was standing straight in front of him. He can't think about it right now though they were both too tired for all this heavy shit. So instead he stepped forward and kissed him. His hand made his way up to the scar that marked the man's chest and gently touched the area. It's a soft hesitant kiss on both parts, more a first time than a lovers kiss, it's safe. Phil's lips are pliant and warm as they linger over Clint's and then... they're not, as the man in front of him simply stopped, he doesn't pull away, but his lips aren't moving any more so Clint stops too, he doesn't move away either but he looked up into Phil's eyes, or he would if Phil had his eyes open but they are closed, and he can't help saying, “Please tell me you haven’t fallen asleep while I was kissing you, my ego would be crushed.”

“No,” the sound in weary, “it's just so hard.”

“Really,” he joked as Phil opens his eyes once again to see Clint's eyebrows rising up suggestively, “so soon.”

It had some effect of toning down the tension between them, as Phil gave way to a small chuckle but it's not long before he was serious again and said, “You... I messed up; I can't help thinking that you would be better off without me and moving on to someone with fewer issues.”

Barton sniggered, “fewer issues, Phil do you remember us having this very same conversation but reversed, when we first started seeing each other I told you I came with too much baggage to make this work?” Phil shook his head, Clint smiled and said, “You told me, as long as you got to put a 'Phil woz here' sticker on my suitcase and how you would really like to stamp my passport at the first opportunity, we'd be fine, and we were.”

He was hoping that would smooth over Phil's worries but he was still frowning.

“I'm not working at my best, so forgive me, but I’m kind of confused Clint, one minute, it's, and I really hate to quote Stark but...”

Clint touched his fingers to Phil's mouth, “then don't, I was angry, I'm sorry, I said that to them.”

“That's my point though Clint, you're kind of yoyo-ing.”

“I see,” and Clint can't help but feel a little hurt so said a little curtly, which made Phil flinch, “Look you're tired, god damn, I'm tired too, I think its best that we sleep on this and talk about in the morning.”

He walked away, leaving Phil behind, getting ready for bed quickly but waited for Phil to come out of the bathroom, he sat on his side and was relieved when Phil walked slowly to bed, now with his t-shirt on and pulled the covers down and slipped in, he really didn't want to have to argue any more even about the damn couch.

He got in himself, and stared up at the ceiling feeling slightly uncomfortable with the situation.

“I'm sorry,” Phil said quietly, “I don't have any right to say anything.”

Clint sighed.

“Just tell me one thing,” Phil inquired slowly, “do you forgive me?”

Hawkeye thought about the answer carefully. Did he?

“I...” he started to say but stopped, before trying again, “I can't...,” another pause as he tried to find the right words.

Phil jumped on the words and nodded his head quickly, “I understand,” he turned on his side away from Clint, his body ridged with unhappiness.

Barton grimaced this was getting to ridiculous scale, every word they said to each other taken the wrong way, maybe it was because it mattered so damn much, they were both so much on edge, both guarding their own hearts and tiptoeing around the others, terrified. Clint was going to put a stop to it right now.

He rolled up behind Phil and slipped his arm over Phil's waist and rubbed his hand up and down the man's arm, feeling the flesh goose up under his hand, “Let me finish, Phil, I was trying to find the words to say, before you jumped the gun... I can't do anything but forgive you, I love you, always have, always will.”

Phil buried his head tighter into the pillow as a small whimpered sound escaped his throat; his hand scrabbled up to find Clint's hand on his arm and laced his fingers through tightly.

“Sleep,” Clint insisted as he breathed into Phil's neck, hands still clutched as he curled tight to Coulson's body, just like the old days, as both their bodies relaxed into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank everyone who leaves comments and kudos it really makes a huge difference to know that there are people reading and enjoying it.


	8. When I smile, tell me some bad news, before I laugh and act like a fool.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast and serious talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken way to long to write but I lost my mojo for a while! Thanks must go to my Beta Veriscence for getting me back on track.

Clint couldn't quite believe it, he could count the hours worth of sleep he they managed on half the fingers of one of his hands. He was no stranger to lack of sleep, neither of them were, but yesterday had been a hell of a day and the emotional turmoil of it wasn't going to be soothed by the night they had just experienced.

He sat at his old and rather badly scratched, he now noticed, kitchen table; hand wrapped round an extra large mug of boiling hot coffee, staring across at what he had presumed would be the love of his life for however long he could manage to stay alive. That presumption wasn't finished by a long shot, not if he had anything to do with it but he had to admit even with the age gap, which really wasn't that big, never had he considered that he wouldn't be the first to go. It was odd now he thought about it in hindsight, Phil's job had been unbelievably dangerous at times, he had put his life on the line countless number of times, he himself had stood side by side with the man when the odds were firmly against them, and Phil had saved Clint from certain death on more than one occasion, but it was almost inconceivable that he could die. He was the textbook guide to being a Super Agent. The unflappable, the unbeatable, the UN-killable, Phil Coulson. It had been unthinkable, and maybe that was part of the reason they couldn't let him stay dead. Looking at him now as he stared down at his own cup of black gold, Clint didn't think Coulson looked that far off of death's door now.

The last time they had shared a bed it had been; well he would have liked to say it had been a night of passion, filled with long luxurious strokes and kisses. In actual fact, now he thought about it, it had been a couple hours on a far too narrow bed on base, a far too fast fumble in the dark, all hands and mouth, wet and lusty but filled with laughter and delight. A far cry from last night for sure! 

They had not even managed three hours of sleep, and even those three hours had been disturbed all the way through. Phil had woken three times during the night, each time in the grip of a nightmare; the first time so bad that he had screamed his way out of it, scaring the shit out of Clint. Coulson had stumbled to the bathroom and thrown up, with a quiet dignity before he returned obviously shaken by the events in his mind, he had climbed back into the bed but when Clint had tried to comfort him he had moved away out of reach, and rolling himself into a ball of misery. Clint had felt completely useless. Phil had eventually relaxed enough to accept him rubbing his leg up and down the man's calf but Clint didn't want to push for more than that. The second time had been less dramatic but had still woken the pair. Phil had sat bolt upright with a small cry, Clint could see the sweat trickling down the man's neck as he looked blurry up at his back. He'd reached out again and was relieved when Phil didn't flinch back as he ran his hand soothingly in circles across his tense shoulder blades. Phil took several long heaving breathes and then sagged back down next to Clint and surprised him by curling his body into Barton's, and rested his head on his chest. The trusted action caught in Clint's throat and his eyes immediately misted over. He placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head and ran his fingers lightly through the hair at the nape of Phil's neck, until they both fell asleep once again. The third and final time had lead them here, far to early too be up after their late night but Phil had woken shaking like a leaf and had simply given up on the whole idea and made his way to the kitchen to put on some coffee.

“How the hell are you functioning?

“We've been trained to go without sleep, you know that,” he said it so matter of fact, as if he just accepted his lot.

“Sure, for short periods of time but not long term.

“It's getting better.”

“Fuck me, Coulson, if that was a better night, then you and me we're going to medical right now!”

Phil looked up a little sheepishly, “well, no, that wasn't one of my better ones, sorry,” he grimaced slightly, “you know if I kept you awake and all.”

Clint let go of his mug and reached across to grasp Phil's hand where it was worrying the edge of his own mug, “No way, don't apologies, jeez, I should be the one, Christ, I've been on your case for days, I had no idea, things were that bad.” He looked Phil deep in the eyes, “I was glad I could be there for you last night, I don’t want you going through that alone every night, not any more, I know things aren't just going to magically,” he grimaced at the word, “sorry, things aren't just going to go back to what they were between us, but I want to be here for you Phil.”

Phil returned the intense stare, he was silent for a long time, and Clint fought to resist fidgeting, but Coulson eventually dropped his eyes back to his coffee and said quietly, “Thank you.”

Their hands entwined, it was a while before either spoke again, they had so much to discuss but neither of them wanted to break the small moment of contentment they both shared. As a couple they had always been quite a quiet pair in each other's company, they wouldn't talk for the sake of talking, they would often spend the whole morning together in one or the others apartment, sat side by side sometimes and not say a single word to each other. They were comfortable in their own silence. It was a silence that was inexplicably not there when they were at work and Clint was jabbering on in Phil's comm but at home together there had always been a peace, a stillness about the pair that few would believe at S.H.I.E.L.D. 

The quiet was broken when Phil said suddenly, “I will be okay, Clint.”

Clint's eyes widened, he had truthfully been sitting here thinking the exact opposite, he really couldn’t see an easy end to all this, for either of them and Phil was living in cloud cuckoo land if he thought this could just be swept under the blanket. “Do tell me,” he started rather harshly, “How any of this is going to be okay! Shit, Phil, it's...” Barton looked up at the clock on the wall, surprised by how much time had actually past while they had been simply sitting there vegetating in their own thoughts, which now seem to be rather far apart. “nine o'clock in the morning, and look at you.”

Coulson quirked an eyebrow up at that statement and looked down at himself letting out a little sigh at the picture before him and obviously picking up Clint's meaning. Still Hawkeye badgered on, “You're sitting in a pair of sweats you wore to bed and...” Clint ran his finger down Coulson's jaw gently, “You haven't even shaved yet, do you know how weird that is on a scale of ten?”

Phil lips lifted a little at the end as Clint's fingers rubbed little circles through his stubble and watched his eyes as they concentrated a little too hard at looking at were his fingers were still caressing his chin. 

"AND,” Clint continued dropping his hand as he realised just what he was doing and not finished with this conversation by a long shot, “You haven't even brought a suit with you!” He huffed still miffed, “so don't go telling me everything is fine and dandy.” 

“I...” Phil looked mildly upset; it's not clear whether it's because of what Clint is saying or by the loss of the rather soothing contact. He physically pulled himself up by the shoulders though, to sit a little straighter before he said in his best bland official agent voice, “Technically (a) I didn't know I would be staying over, Thanks for that by the way; so I didn't bring a share set of clothes with me, and (b) I didn't know I would be staying over so I didn't bring a shaving kit with me,” He cheekily added trying to alleviate Clint's mood somewhat, “although I'm not sure you mind that too much.” He smiled running his own fingers through the bristles loudly, but Clint was still frowning.

“And still it's nine o'clock in the morning and you aren't dressed, do you know the last time that happened to us?”

Phil looked rather perplexed, “Clint, it's not that big a deal.”

“It was when you dislocated both your damn arms, when you made an upside down grab for my climbing line when I went off the end of that building in Kuala Lumpur, and the only reason you didn't get dressed then was because you were too bloody stubborn to ask for help.”

“As I remember,” Phil said in a wistful tone, “You sat watching me, sulking and not offering any help.”

“I told you not to touch the fucking line!”

“That was seven years ago and you are still pissed?” He couldn't help the laugh that accompanied it.

“NO! You bastard, are you being deliberately difficult, what I’m saying is that you sitting here in your god-damn sleep wear this late in the morning is not normal, it's not 'okay', honest to god, Phil, and can't you see that, you are the most anal man I have ever met in the mornings.” He continued on as Phil frowned at the statement, at least he can take a criticism seriously, Clint thinks. “You are up, dressed and shaved by seven o’clock every morning whether you are working or not, and that doesn't change even if you have already been for a morning run, you drive me fucking crazy with it!”

“I see...” he said as if he was wounded, and only realising now how his behaviour affected Clint for all these years, “I didn't realise it was such a big deal for you, I'm sorry.”

“FUCK, NO!!” Clint got up and leaned over Coulson, who looked up at Clint's looming body, a flash of concern passing across his face. “I love you, every bit of you, even the bloody early mornings I’m not saying it annoys me I’m saying that this,” his hands indicating Phil's state of undress, “worries me.” He sat down again as if his strings had been suddenly cut, huffing out a sigh.

Phil looked on, sadly, he didn't want to worry Clint, he wanted to be there for him now, Clint had been wonderful and kind and loyal, they'd had a few false starts for sure but he always came through for Phil and he wanted, desperately to give something back, he was giver not a taker and he had been on that road too long already.

Of course, he was still perturbed by himself, he was at a loss, he didn't know if he was reading this all wrong, if this was one of the difference he feared about himself, was Clint right to be overly worried by the fact he was still undressed, he supposed, it was the only time that he could remember in a very long time not being ready at this time of the day. Did it worry him? Not particularly, he had given a stellar performance in, how not to sleep through last night and most of it had been gone before their heads had even hit the pillow, what little remained of it had been disastrous. So, couldn't he be cut a little slack, BUT, and it really was a big but, Phil Coulson didn't do slack, so maybe Clint had a point and he looked into Clint's eyes with a touch of panic, but his head did what it always did in these situations, it ignored emotions and he found himself saying, as calmly as you like, “You always just bury your head under the pillow till the last minute.”

And Clint... Clint cut him some slack, and said with a fragile smile, “Which is usually when you come along and strip the duvet off me.” 

“I liked to give the personal touch to your morning alarm call.”

“Oh I remember those mornings too, but you were still dressed by seven!”

“I seem to remember you undressing me again after seven.” 

“True but I usually had to fill out a form in triplicate and submit it at least 10 minutes before doing so,” He laughed fondly.

“Hmm.”

Clint watched as the smile started to fade from Phil's face, he said quietly, “You turned up for a meeting with Fury in a sports jacket, Phil.”

He nodded his head looking intimately at the dregs of his coffee mug. “I don't know why, I just did, it's no...” But he didn't finish, it wasn't fair to even say it was no big deal, because in the Life and Times of Phil Coulson it probably was a huge subconscious BIG DEAL. It was just one he didn't really want to voice.

Talking of not voicing things, there was one great big elephant in the room that neither of them had mentioned at all, last nights' little bombshell, and although Phil had taken in very little, he could piece together more than enough to know that it had huge repercussions for both of them! 

Phil looked up, swallowed and said, “I need to tell you everything I know, and saw in that machine and then we are going to have to talk about the Avenger's!” Clint nodded and took a deep breath, as if bracing himself. He started to fidget in his seat as Phil watched him ready to start.

“Just hold that thought, I think we should have breakfast first.” Clint jumped up and was half way across the kitchen before Phil spoke in question, “Clint?”

“Pancakes, I think don't you?”

Phil sighed as he watched Clint rush round his tiny kitchen, pulling pans down and opening cupboards to grab ingredients. Clint was stalling, Coulson didn't know why but perhaps now the time was here, to get everything out in the open, he wasn't so keen on hearing the details, Phil couldn't blame him for that, so he let him, prepare and cook up a frenzy. 

Clint cooked up enough to feed a small army or Thor on a hungry day. He poured more coffee and set out cutlery and then sat down and stared at the food clearly not interested in actually eating it. Phil felt bad enough that he took a pancake from the tower and pushed it round his plate, cutting off small chunks and chewed overly long on each piece before he gulped coffee down with each swallow.

Barton grabbed a pancake with his fingers, tore into his food, ripping pieces off and piling them into the middle of his plate, none touched his lips but he amused himself by heaping it into a little tower. 

“Clint.” 

“Hmm,” he looked up from his pancake mountain.

“Let's go and sit on the couch,” Phil said, as he stretched out his hand for Clint to take. Clint blinked slowly and looked down at the hand, he swallowed a couple of times before tentatively taking it in his and entwining their fingers, they both barely managed a nervous smile, Coulson stood first and gently tugged to get the other man to his feet. 

They settled onto the couch side by side and Phil started to go through his tale which sounded more and more like a tormented horror story. Clint glanced over from time to time as he listened to Phil's bland unemotional voice relating the facts in a steady orderly manner. The voice matched the face he thought as he watched. Coulson sat bolt upright on the furniture and stared at a fixed point across the room, nothing leaked out of the man, he resembled robot that every junior agent at one time or another (because no one could be that calm and controlled!) believed him to be. 

Coulson dispassionately described the machine he had seen operating on his brain, the vision that had reflected off shiny S.H.I.E.L.D medical equipment, he paused briefly as if thinking of something for the first time, and said, “Maybe it wasn't their equipment after all, that machine that was...” He frowned stumbling with the words as he went gone off script for the first time. “It could have been Stark's, I guess, the lights had that blood blue colour that seems to be trademark Stark these days.” 

Clint took a deep breath, he hadn't found out last night exactly how involved the others really were in it all but it did make sense, Tony was a god damn genius with machinery, Phil had given him a vivid description of the multi armed robot that had probed the very depths of his brain, it was definitely something Stark could achieve, the morality of it Clint wasn't willing to think about right this second, as Phil had started on his text again, chronicling his experience. He had seen Coulson like this on other occasions of course, when things had gone wrong on missions, when people, his people had lost their lives. He would report back impassively, his recount of the situation flawless and apathetic, he had been called cold hearted and callous by agents around him on more than one occasion but it was Coulson's way of copying, he would bottle it up inside. But this was private, this was just Phil and Clint, the archer felt a overriding need to break Phil out of this desensitized report, it was probably selfish but something didn't feel right, he wanted to free his lover of the need to hide behind the facts, surely Phil couldn't get through this without actually facing it head on.

“Phil?” 

He stopped mid sentence, but he didn't turn.

“Phil?”

He swallowed, his eyes widen, he breath hitched up a notch but he didn’t turn.

Clint's hands grasped the edge of the other man's leg. Coulson's head dropped down suddenly, his chin resting on his chest. 

“I think I saw them,” Coulson mumbled.

Clint frowned, “Saw who?”

Phil turned. 

His face like a open book, eyes beseeching with vulnerability, “The Avengers, in the...” He swallowed as his voice wavered, “In the viewing gallery, I didn’t realise it was them, still might not have been I guess,” he said shrugging his shoulders, “But there where shadowy figures I could see them from the corner of my eye, watching, watching me scream and beg, I always thought one was Fury but the other four...” He looked so small sitting here now and Clint wished he hadn't tried to force this out of him, “Stark, Banner, Thor, Rogers?” Clint could only shake his head, he had no answers, but he reached out his fingers reaching round to touch the back of Phil's neck, he tried to caress some of the tense posture out of his body. He must have looked a sight to Coulson though, he knew there must be a wild staring look in his eyes, because Phil smiled tightly and his hand grabbed the back of Clint's neck too but Phil didn't just touch he pulled him close and rested Clint's head against his chest, Barton's nose sitting in the gap between shoulder and chin. Clint's other hand snaked round the stiff body holding tightly. 

“You know what I still don't understand?” Phil said suddenly. 

“No,” Clint breathed into the man's neck, feeling the goose bumps spring up under his nose where it touched the warm skin.

“Why? Why did they do it, it makes no sense, I have nothing. I'm not special, a thousand people could do my job, especially now.” His voice finished on a bitter laugh. “When I was younger maybe, but...” Phil's fingers float over the nape of Clint's neck as if trying to take the sting out of his words. “I'm not worth the effort and expense, I don't understand.” 

Clint wanted to argue to deny every word but he couldn't, not because he doesn't believe wholeheartedly that Phil was wrong, that he is so wrong, but couldn't because his throat was a knot, a lump so hard he's surprised he can still breath, as least it prevented sounds whimpering out. Perhaps Phil can feel anyway, as he dropped a kiss to the top of his head, and whispered, “Sorry.” Clint wasn't sure why he was apologizing but maybe it's because he can feel Clint's warm wet tears as they started to track down his collar bone, or the way Clint's hands gripped even tighter, holding on, as emotions flood out of him, even as his head swore that he was supposed to be doing this for Phil, and he was, he was crying for Phil, because nobody should feel that lost and unsure of his place in the world. Nobody should feel worthless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad ending again, sorry I can't help myself!


	9. If I shiver, please give me a blanket, keep me warm, let me wear your coat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stark Tower and elevator music plus a happy Phil and Clint, for a little while at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Veriscence, for making this actually readable!

Stark tower loomed above them, the huge ostentatious building hustled and bustled with people rushing in and out, smartly dressed, bright young things, walking in with cardboard cups of identical brands of coffee grasped in their hands as they juggled with briefcases and paper bags of pastries.

Barton and Coulson stood in front of the main doors to the building, both men looking more anxious about entering than two top operatives of S.H.I.E.L.D really should. After all they weren't stepping into a kill zone. Mind you, Phil thought, he'd had his time trying to manage Stark, and he had always imagined an insurance claim form hitting his desk one day because Stark had infuriated someone into a heart attack, he'd often expected it might have his own name on it but that had all been before the Helicarrier and New York!

It had been late morning, the pair having finally dragged themselves up off the couch. Clint had felt vaguely embarrassed at his breakdown but the dampness at the tips of his hair suggested he hadn't been the only to shed a tear and as he pulled away from Phil's shoulder and looked up into his face, Clint could see the faint traces.

They hadn't really talked about what they had planned to do and say once they had got here. Now standing in front of the Avengers Power base, they were reluctant to step inside, a feeling of make or break haunted them. Phil was acutely aware what was at risk here, and he needed to keep Clint away from any potential fallout. He may well go down but he would fight not to allow Clint to follow. What he had said to Clint earlier as far as he was concerned was true, as angry as he was about what he had been put through, he felt oddly unworthy of even being considered highly enough for it to be carried out in the first place.

Clint was more important than him in so many ways and Phil needed to make sure that Clint wouldn't become collateral damage through his association. Barton's life up to a few years back had been... hard... challenging... and through all those trials he had pulled himself from the gutter in a truly inspirational way, he didn't see it like that of course. He preconceived everything as somehow being his fault and that he'd had options and taken the wrong ones, but in the real world, if that were true Clint's life should ended with a early grave or prison, instead he was a highly respected member of a secret organization and a member of a group of exceptional people that saved the world on a regular basis.

“Clint,” Phil turned to face the man. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Hmm?” Clint pulled his eyes away from the tower.

Phil brought both his hands up and cupped Clint's face on either side, he had no choice but to look into Phil's serious eyes, as he said, “No matter what happens, up there,” Phil glanced up to indicate the tower, “or in the next few days, I need you to promise me...”

“NO,” Clint's eyes widened as it dawned on him what Phil was about try and persuade Clint not to get involved.

“Clint, what's happened to me is in the past, it can't be changed. I understand this isn't just about me, you are disappointed, you should be incensed that you've been lied too, but be infuriated at them, rage at them, that is fine but...Clint don't give up on the Avengers, please.”

Hawkeye shook his head in as short and fast a motion as he could while being held firmly in the other man's grasp, he couldn't promise that, even knowing how much Phil had invested in the project. “I can't promise...I'm sorry, don't you see I can't trust them.”

“I recognize that, of course I do but... the Avengers as a whole, is bigger than both of us, it's too important to the world for you to walk away from.”

“How can I pretend that what has happened hasn't changed the way I feel about them, I can't work like that.”

“YES, yes you can, you're a professional Clint, you're Hawkeye, leave your social life at the door when you put on your field suit. Whether you find a resolution to past events or not, I know you can do that. Shit if you couldn't you wouldn't have made it through the first few years at S.H.I.E.L.D with the various handlers you nearly drove demented.”

“I can't promise, Phil, I can't.”

“Okay, okay,” Phil glanced down, disappointed but accepting, “but you can promise me that you won't just follow me. I don't know where this is heading but don't do anything because you feel obliged to support me. I trust you Clint, I don't need you to stand beside me to know that. When we first met Clint, I had only an inkling of the potential in you, what you have achieved is outstanding and you know what, you deserve it and I’m so proud of you. You are your own man and I know it's hard but you need to think bigger than just us.”

Clint looked down, before looking back up, the emotional roller coaster of their lives living him drained, “I... shit Phil, I don't really have an answer to that.”

Phil smiled as he said, “You're the World's Greatest Marksman, the word 'World' in your title should give you a clue to how much we all need you”

Clint snorted, “Yeah, but forget, Agent Coulson, you're known as a 'Bad Ass Mother Fucker',in junior agent circles, the word 'ass' should give you a clue to what I’m thinking right now, and believe me, that's The World's Greatest Marksman being unusually polite!”

“Come on let's get this over with,” Phil smirked and grabbed hold of his Clint's hand.

They moved over to the bank of elevators together, still hand in hand. Clint looked across at Phil noticing the frown on his face again as they waited for the car, “Okay?”

He smile back, “Sure, just wondering what J.A.R.V.I.S. is going to plague me with today.”

“Huh?” Clint looked genuinely puzzled by that statement.

“I'm sure that he is tormenting and ridiculing my life with elevator music.”

Clint spluttered with laughter, “Really Phil, elevator music?”

“You wait, I swear if he hits me with 'Bridge Over Troubled Water', I'm going to start pulling wires!”

“Yeah Granddad, not sure pulling wires in this day and age is going to have any effect especially on J.A.R.V.I.S.”

“Says the man with a bow and arrow.” The witty give and take took a break as the elevator doors opened slowly, the sound of silence is all that filled the air, and Coulson breathed a sigh of relief as Clint smirked over at him and the two men stepped forward. Clint pressed his thumb to a flat unmarked screen and held it in place as it was scanned and a green light briefly flashed. He then took his place shoulder to shoulder with Coulson. As the elevator engaged, and started to move, the enclosed space was once again filled with sound, Christina Aquilera's voice filled the background this time.

_There's nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm,_  
 _He's a one stop shop, makes the panties drop,_  
 _He's a sweet talkin' sugar coated Candyman._

The tension that had started to build once again was immediately broken as both men gave way to the silliness of the lyrics, and they laughed out loud at the same time, making them snicker more as the simultaneous giggles took them over. Phil was forced to turn into Clint's shoulder resting his forehead along his collarbone to grasp for air as he tried to regain his control, as his body was overtaken with amusement . Barton for his part, snaked his arm round Coulson's chest as he calmed. It was a good job, Clint thought, these lifts had such a long way to get to the top especially at the proper limited speed these things where tested for, much to Tony's aggravation.

“So if J.A.R.V.I.S. is selecting music just for you, does that make me your sugar coated candyman?” Clint beamed and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Not sure,” Phil snorted, “Let me just check,” he ran his tongue in a wide strip of exposed skin at Clint's neck, enjoying the shudder that he felt run down the younger man.

“Oh God!”

“Like that do we, Candyman?”

“Yeah, maybe not in any elevator on the way up Stark tower though.”

Phil groaned, “Passion killer.”

Clint chuckled, “Yeah but you will thank me when...” and the box came to halt and the doors pinged to signal there opening.

Phil jumped away, with wide eyes, which wasn't helped as he looked across at the man next to him a smug dirty look on his face.

They turned their eyes forward as the doors opened, the wide eyed look didn't leave Phil's face and Clint's turned deadly serious as they looked at the assembly in front of them.

Passion killer indeed! Phil watched as Stark, Banner, Rogers, Sitwell (well shit, Phil thought, Sitwell knew too!), Hill and Fury all turned as one from round the table they were sat, equal looks of surprise on their faces, as the very man they were obviously talking about stared back at them, of all the time he could have turned up he just happened on this, and just for a change it was a complete coincidence.

Both men and woman's posture visibly tightened, Jasper half stood up from his chair panic on his face, Hill's face looked pissed – nothing new, Fury manifested meanness – status quo, Stark actually looked like a rabbit caught in headlights, Banner's expression meek and mild – a good alternative to the other, and Roger's displayed misery – again no change really, he definitely was Wednesday's child full of woe at the moment.

Coulson took a second and glanced to his right at Clint who was looking at the elevator buttons in much the same way that Phil had last night (God, he thought was that only last night) he briefly wondered if he gave the slightest indication to Clint whether he would automatically reached out and hit the down button.

All of these thoughts happened in a blink of an eye of course, as Coulson risk assessed the situation like a good handler. He conclusion was, if could possibly get away with it, he should like to knock Clint out cold (without hurting him of course) hit the down button and step out of the elevator before the doors closed into the lion's den alone, saving his asset from all this shit. The chances of him even lying his little finger on him was basically nil though. Instead he straightened his shoulders and for the first time since he had left the Bus. He wished to hell he had brought a damn suit with him and he had a tie to smooth down his chest, but he hadn't and he didn't, so he had to step out of the elevator feeling barely dressed in yesterday's pants, a button down shirt and a fucking sports jacket! He could honestly say he had never been more grateful in his life for the invention of the disposable razor and the long shower he had wallowed in before leaving Clint's place.

If Clint could hear what was going on in Phil's brain right now he was pretty sure he would be rolling around the floor with hilarity and handing out 'I told you so' badges to anyone that would take them!


	10. If I swallow anything evil, put your finger down my throat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang is back together and it all ends with a fight, of course!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter in this part of the series.

**If I swallow anything evil, put your finger down my throat.**

 

“My invite seems to have got lost in the post.” Phil said coolly.

Captain Rogers, rose slightly before dropping back down into his chair, and said as he tried to cool the quickly developing bad atmosphere. “Agent Coulson, you are of course welcome to join us.”

Clint snorted behind Phil, as he stepped out of the elevator.

“Clint, we're pleased to see you, things got a little heated last night. Can we sit down and talk this out?” Rogers asked.

“Oh I don't think Coulson is here to break bread with us, are you Agent?” Fury said calmly but his face betrayed a touch of anger.

“I hadn't realised how cosy S.H.I.E.L.D Avengers meetings had gotten since I've been off the scene,” he turned to Clint with a nasty smirk, “You never told me it was the whole gang together, is this your doing Sitwell?” Coulson turned his glare on the agent in question, who in returned looked down at the table guiltily. “Or are you here for something special?”

“Agent Sitwell is the Avengers liaison now, Phil, he would naturally be here for such meeting,” Hill voice rang out in the other agents' defence.

“How about you Assistant Director?” Clint asked, “I don't recall you being at Avengers meetings before,” his eyes bored into her as she glared back, “and as an Avenger I would obviously know all about their business,” Clint eyes turned to the other members double meaning clear, as Stark grimaced and Banner worried at his fingers.

“Stand down sunshine,” Fury commanded, “Lets just cut to the chase, Coulson.”

“Director, please do.”

“You were in trouble, I needed highly technical equipment, Stark helped, I asked Banner to use some of his medical knowledge, and Rogers here was to help afterwards. That's it.”

Coulson's eyes narrowed, “That's it? My life broken down to one sentence, that’s it!”

“Not all of us have to write a 200 page memo to change a light bulb,” Hill muttered.

Phil whirled on her, “I'm so glad my life is such a joke to you.” “Look Phil,” she started. He didn't let her finish, “I had really hoped you hadn't been involved in all this Maria, but it seems you've been laughing behind my back all along.” He gave Sitwell a pointed look.

Maria's eyes narrowed, Coulson knew that look. Maria had a tendency to go on the offensive rather than the defensive when pushed, especially when pushed into an emotional corner. So now she bit back rather snappishly, “You're here and alive, can't you just be happy with that, at least accept it.”

His voice started quietly gaining volume as he continued, “I have accepted it as you call it, but what I can't sanction is the secrets, lies and deceit that followed it, which you, all of you,” he looked around the room, “were part of.”

“So were you Phil, let's not forget that with all your self-righteousness!” Fury pointed out.

Phil winced, “Don't you think I know that, and how sorry I am for going down that route,” he glanced over at Clint who looked back at him a half smile on his face. “But I seem to be the only one here prepared to apologies.”

Stark piped up, “Let me get this right, we should be apologising for keeping you alive?”

Coulson doesn't even look across at Stark but raised his hand one finger outstretched in warning, “Not now Mr Stark, I'll get round to you and your involvement shortly.” He turned his head to glare at the man and continued, “and how you thought it was acceptable to come to my plane and pretend that you were the injured party!”

Stark swallowed, and stared at the finger of doom, he had of course come across that finger before when Coulson shadowed him in Malibu, he also knew that it was usually followed by a threat and he also knew that it was a warning not to be taken lightly. He had joked around with Coulson before New York but he was well aware that you took on serious Coulson at your peril and even if he was in-cased in his iron man suit he would think twice about it, so he backed away throwing his hands up in a typical over the top Stark gesture.

Clint stepped forward, a puzzled frown on his face, something Fury had said had been niggling at his brain , looking between Roger's and Fury he said, “So why didn't you help afterwards?” He asked Captain America.

Steve opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Fury, “Thing's changed, we decided it wasn’t necessary.”

Clint looked over to Phil, he looked pale but determined, “Thing's changed! You mean you had to change my memories because you all couldn't accept my wishes and ploughed on regardless! Tell me Stark, did you know what you were creating when Director Fury first asked you?” He looked Stark square in the face, who was shaking his head looking slightly sick. “Coulson, I...”

“I hear you've been having a few problems with panic attacks, why's that Mr Stark?” Tony opened his mouth to speak but Fury interrupted again, “None of us truly knew what would happen, Agent Coulson.”

Coulson stepped forward as Fury stood. “You all watched, as I...” Phil took a breath, “I saw you, watching me from the gallery, interesting viewing was it,” he looked round furiously, “all of you, standing there while I beg for mercy, I wanted to die, that's what changed isn't it, you decided to cover up their involvement,” he looked at Fury, “because what? It all got to messy? Nobody quite wanted to be associated with a gibbering wreck!” He was shouting now, he realised, he was breathing heavy, those around the table looked in varying degrees of embarrassment and guilt. Even Fury had the decency to look away briefly.

“Look we understand, “Captain Roger's started, trying to take command of the situation, “that you are upset that you weren't informed of our involvement in the procedures you underwent, but we took on that task in good faith to try and help you.”

“In good faith!” Coulson said unbelievably, “You brought me back from the dead!”

“Well hardly...”

Roger's doesn't get to finish as Fury hastily stepped in, “No matter what has happened it's in the past, you're obviously not happy, that's the reason I gave you the bus, Phil, so that you could...”

“Don’t bull shit me Nick,” Coulson said angrily, “I've worked for you too long not to recognise it when I hear it. You gave me the bus to get me out of the way so none of this would come to light.”

“It seems to me that we are going round in circles here, I think we can agree that mistakes have made on all parts here.”

Steve's calm was beginning to really irritate Clint, “Mistakes!” he wades in, “Wow yeah, that's fine then, you all lie your heads off and say sorry it's all been a bit of a mistake. Oh but we must forget that actually you aren't even saying the sorry part.”

“Clint, we understand...”

“You,” Clint sounded completely outraged, “understand jack shit!”

“Agent Barton,” Maria said annoyance clear in her voice, “I don't think that attitude is helping this discussion.”

Phil jumped straight in, “Agent Barton and Roman off have good cause to be upset by this, Hill, they are the truly wounded parties here, not only have they been lied to by me, and S.H.I.E.L.D but also by the team mates, I think his 'attitude' is quite understanding don't you?”

“We agreed to keep silent about this because we felt it was the best thing for your recovery Agent Coulson, I think,” he looked round at his other team mates who had all stood up and moved away from the deserted table. “I think I speak for the other Avengers when I say we are sorry for not informing Agent Barton, had we released the natural of your relationship I don't think...”

“What about him?” Clint indicated to Coulson, “are you going to apologies to him?”

“I'm not sure ...”

“Why did you agree to such a thing surely you must have realised it was wrong.”

Steve looked round at the others, “Keeping our involvement secret looking back was wrong.”

“I don't mean that, why couldn't you leave him alone.”

Steve looked a bit puzzled, “Ah Agent Coulson was obviously severely injured, those injuries did cause him a great deal of pain but we couldn't leave him to die Clint, would you have done anything differently?”

“I would have had the decency to at least listen to him.”

“Can you honestly say you would prefer he was dead right now?”

“NO,” he turned and looked at Phil, love shining through, as he spoke, turning back to Rogers, “no I can't say that, Phil knows that, but for love of god, I would have fucking well gone in there and reassured him, how the hell did you stand there and watch that!” His eyes looked suspiciously wet as he continued, “He was fucking terrified and in agony, and you, his so called friends left him to face that alone.”

“Clint,” Phil said softly, resting his hand on his arm, “No Phil,” he shouted heatedly and pulled away, “they need to hear this, they call themselves fucking heroes and as far as I can see they are a bunch of cowards.”

“Barton,” Fury growled.

“Hold your horses, Barton,” Stark started.

“What Stark, you've never been able to deal with people in a mature manner, frankly your attitude is the easiest to understand, you got to make some freaky looking gadget, so you are happy, I wouldn't really expect anything different from you.”

“Well frankly Barton,” Stark bit back, miffed, “I wasn't that aware you could string more than a couple of lines together so this is all new for me as well.”

“Barton I think that's more than...” Fury started.

“Excuse me Director,” he glared at Fury, past caring that he was talking to his boss disrespectfully, he could imagine Phil's cringing face behind him, which is exactly why he didn't look back, and continued sarcastically, “If you don't mind, I haven't finished talking to my so called team mates.”

“Clint...” Banner started in gently, he stood and walked over to stand next to Stark.

“What, Bruce, all a bit distasteful for you! You know what, I think you might be the worst of the lot,” he snapped.

“Me!” Bruce looked surprised.

“You have spent years helping people, Banner, you're supposed to care about your patients aren't you? Even Streiten tried to put a stop to it.”

Banner looked surprised by the personal attack, and he sounded somewhat stuffy professor as he countered, “What we were doing was ground breaking; you have to understand the scientific and medical value...”

Barton was seriously losing it, “Scientific value!” He pushed forward and crowded into Banner's space.

Stark held up his hands trying to placate Barton. “Let's co...”

“Shut up,” Barton snapped in Stark's face before turning back to Banner. “Scientific! He's one of us and you used him like a lab rat.”

Banner was starting to look agitated, as Clint got up close and personal in his face. Deep down Clint knew this was a mistake but he couldn’t stop himself, something had snapped inside him, something that had been strung tighter than his bow since Loki had done his worst to him. He could sense as Phil started to move towards him, no doubt to calm him down but he was miles away from calm right now, and he knew it was stupid, this certainly isn't what Phil wanted, he had warned Clint not to go up against his team, that he would regret it in the long run and he was doing exactly what Phil asked him not to do but he still he continued.

It seemed Banners patience wasn't limitless as he snarled back, “One of us, yeah, you meant so much to him he didn't even bother to tell you he was alive.”

Rage bubbled up inside Clint and he lashed out, physically shoving Banner as hard as he could backwards and shouting, “Neither did my so called team mates, just cause your life is a freak show doesn't mean you get to experiment on everyone else, you would think you'd have learnt from your own fucking mistakes!” Banner stumbled back a pace or too, and Clint had a brief second to think maybe he had just tumbled over the crazy line by provoking the Hulk of all his team mates, and it seemed he might not be the only one as the whole room seemed to take a rough intake of breath. He was pretty sure he heard Phil, shriek “No,” from close by and he knew why, as he suddenly looked into the eyes of Bruce Banner and didn't see Banners languid look of calm, 'Oh Shit, Clint my boy you have really done it this time, and Phil is going to be so pissed'. He braced himself for the hit that he knew could easily kill him if the green tinge that was taking over Bruce’s skin was anything to go by, his arm already pulled back and Clint could do nothing but watch in a sick fascination as the veins broaden and the arm bulged, he wouldn't be quick enough to get away, he could only hope to try and roll with it!

The blow never reach him though, and he found himself tumbling backwards, a unmanly startled scream bubbled up in his throat, as none other than Phil Coulson stepped in the way, his body nothing more than a twig in a gale as the force of the Hulk's fist struck him on the left side of his chest and sent him flying limply through the air clean over the couch without any part of his body touching it. The next impact was to his head as it hit the wall that stopped his backward momentum. There was a achingly stunned few seconds as everyone watched in horror as Coulson crumpled into unconscious heap on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's one of my Clint Hangers, or in this cause a Coulson Hanger.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, good or bad, I just need to be noticed ;)


	11. To be hated, to be fated, to telling only lies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its time to find out how Phil is!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my Beta as always, Veriscence, I know I'm a sloppy writer and you make this readable!
> 
> This is the last part in this bit of the series, see end notes.

Hulk in his full green suit now, bellowed out in rage before the sound changed to a whimper and groaned, as he watched the man hit the floor, he turned his head up to the ceiling and let out a roar of misery, everyone apart from Barton took more than one step back from the beast and readied themselves for a fight, fear oozing out of their pores. But instead of running rampage the monster backed away lumbering slowly into the opposite corner and ducked down on his haunches almost cowering.

“Oh God,” Stark breathed heavily, his stare switching from looking at the non moving form on the floor to the huge bulk recoiling against the wall.

“Hill, call medical, get them here fast,” Fury's voice commanded as he started over to his long time friend. Hill turned quickly, speaking into her earpiece, curt precise words ordering exactly what she needed.

Clint stood in stunned shock, his brain trying to comprehend what had just happened. The world roared in his ears, they say your life slows down as you see your impending doom come upon you, the opposite seems to happen when it someone you care about more than yourself, everything sped up and flashed before him leaving him frozen until something snapped. He saw Jasper and then Fury starting to make their way hasty over to check Phil, he leapt over the couch in one bound. He grabbed hold of Sitwell and spun him away, growling, “Get away from him.” He swirled around and faced the others off snarling, making everyone stop dead.

“Barton, stand down, we only want to help him,” Fury said gently, holding his hands out in a non threatening manner.

“No one touches him!” Barton roared and looked around, a crazed look in his eye.

“Barton, don't be an idiot,” Stark stepped forward, not recognising what the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents could read in the archers behaviour. He barely got anywhere near the prone man before his feet were swept out from under him, falling flat on his back with a whoosh of air leaving his lungs. Tony's head hit the floor with a dull thud. Barton was back on his feet in a second balancing on the balls of his feet combat ready, looking around wildly for his next enemy, before anybody moved to help or try and restrain him. The room froze and looked warily to the corner as the Hulk gave out a menacing growl but gave out a collective sigh when he didn't move from his corner. 

Stark rubbed vigorously at his head as he came up to a sitting position, stunned but unhurt! Roger's stepped up to his side and grabbed his arm to haul him to his feet, “What the hell, Barton, you're fucking feral boy!” He swore as he gained his feet once again and stalked off to sit on the edge of the couch, watching as Barton bared his teeth at him. 

“Clint?” Jasper said gently, taking one step forward before stopping, keeping his hands high much as Fury had earlier, “Let me check on Phil, he needs help, Clint please.”

Barton looked at Jasper and then down to Phil, who still hadn't moved, he needed to go to him, he could see blood on the floor, he needed to check him but he couldn't protect him at the same time. As he looked around he didn't want any of them to touch his lover but of all of them, Sitwell was probably the least threatening, he gave him a curt nod and gestured for him to come forward, Hill stepped forward as well and Clint made a threatening move towards her, “Only him.” She looked across at Fury, waiting for a signal to act; a slight shake of his head had her stepping back.

“That's fine, son, just let Jasper take a look okay,” Fury said soothingly. Nick knew the drill, he'd had to talk more than one agent down from a breakdown before, it always surprised him that this didn't happen more often but few held quite the danger that Barton did in this frame of mine. One silly move like Stark had blundered into a few moments ago and the scales could tip to deadly fast and Barton was a damn good asset for S.H.I.E.L.D if nothing else, too good to waste if they were forced to act. Not to mention the kind of fall out there would be with Coulson if they had to remove Barton. The relationship that he held with Coulson would need addressing,that much was clear, Barton was freaking out because of him, The man was far from stable but in his line of work that wasn't unusual either, many a mental casualty of professional assassins had fallen in the organisation but most could be surprising brought back under the fold again. A lot depended upon the man on the floor right now. If Phil was dead, (again!) Nick really didn't want to think about that possibility but he hadn't even as much as twitched since he'd hit the wall, it was likely to be game over for Barton, and assets like Barton didn't tend to get a retirement package and a gold watch! 

Jasper moved slowly telegraphing his every move, keeping eyes fixed on Barton until he reached Coulson's side and lowed himself down next to him. He reached out to his neck and checked for a pulse, he let out a breath of relief as he found one straight away, “He's breathing.” He felt round the back of Phil's head, his hand came away wet with blood but it wasn't bleeding excessively, he next undid the buttons on his dress shirt, watching from the corner of his eye as Barton stepped closer to watch. Hill and Fury took a stealthy step forward as Barton’s attention was caught by what Jasper was doing. He opened the shirt, and heard Barton groan at what he saw; Jasper looked with horror at the dark red mottled skin that was already turning purple, that marring the man's chest right over the long healed scar that already dissected it. He wondered if the blow would have caused a relapse to the injury, but looking at the shoulder area it would be a miracle if the shoulder itself or collar bone where intact. 

“Clint,” Jasper said softly looking at the man as he reported carefully Phil's condition, “He's okay, his pulse is strong, breathing is fine, he has a cut on the back of his head, but it doesn't look too bad.” 

Barton nodded, his face looked so young as he watched with fear at his partner. He bent down at his side, his awareness of the room slipping. He took Phil's hand in his own. Amazingly at the touch Phil gave out a low groan and his hand twitched within his grasp. “Phil? Phil, come on, you're going to be fine,” he said not sure if he was trying to persuade himself of the fact. Coulson's head moved towards the sound, his pain filled eyes fluttered open. “Clint?” 

“Hey, there big fella,” he smiled down at him. 

“Wha... what happened?" Coulson asked a frown forming on his face. He tried to lift his head but gave up as the world spun.

“Arhhg,” Clint grimaced.

“You did a damn fool thing again! Then Barton here got a bit territorial!” Fury reprimanded, Phil's frown increased as he looked across at Fury as Clint's face contorted into an angry glower. Phil tried to concentrate, especially when Barton's stance took on a fighting edge that Phil recognised from his days out in the field with his asset. He squeezed his hand to pull his attention back towards him.

“Clint,” he waited until Barton's eyes looked down at him, he was not relieved by what he saw and the way everyone around them seemed to be on tender hooks, “Clint, what have you done?”

“I...” He swallowed and looked around the room at the rather bewildered looks, he bent down and whispered into Phil's ear, it was such a fragile gesture it made Phil's worry spike, “I lost it, Phil, I’ve fucked up again, I’m sorry. I'm really sorry.” 

Coulson, grimaced as he lifted his right arm and grabbed Clint round the neck, and spoke quietly back in his ear, “It's okay Clint, don't panic, we'll sort this, you just need to make sure they know you're not a threat, okay?” He stroked the short hairs of the man's neck to try and calm him. Phil could see the way everyone looked warily at Clint, whatever he had done, there was a threatening edge to the room, a room with, Phil's eyes widened, as he caught sight of the Hulk, head in hands filling out the corner opposite him, more worrisome was the fact that nobody was paying him notice whereas Clint seemed to have the rooms scrutiny on him, not a good sign and he cursed his unconsciousness and what he had just missed! 

Barton nodded his head as he pulled away slightly scanned the man below him. Just having him awake again had calmed the uncontrollable rage that had overtaken him, he knew deep down that it wasn't right, he wasn't right, it had been years since he had lost himself so deeply. Phil's presence had seemed to lock that part of him away for so long, Loki's manipulation of him and Phil's absence had opened that box once again but he had been so deep in his own misery he hadn't really been pushed and he had hoped that Phil's survival had slammed that box firmly once and for all shut but it seemed that the box was as fragile as his psyche and the threat of losing his love once again had pushed him over. It would have to be addressed, he knew that, Phil would insist but that was for another day, he only hoped he had another day with S.H.I.E.L.D. Phil, of course, isn't he always, was right, he needed to mend some bridges and as he turned to the assembled group he swallowed. Hill and Fury gave him an evil eye, Stark won't even look at him. Rogers (bless him) gave a hesitant smile. 

He glanced across at the Hulk in the corner as he lifted his head and stared back in misery. Barton stood up, and walked across to within a meter of the green super hero.

Phil watched, desperately trying to push up on the one elbow that felt like it would work and wasn't sending an agonising heat down the rest of his arm, to watch nervously.

Clint squatted down on the floor, looking the monster in the eye, “Bruce, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, this is my fault not yours,” he lowered his head looking down at the floor in anguish, and trust. He heard no sound but looked up as he felt a pressure on his head, straight up into the Hulks eyes as his massive hand rested tenderly on Clint's hair. They nodded silently at each other. Barton reached up and gripped Banners forearm supportively as the green began to fade. Clint slowly got to his feet again. He made his way across to Stark, he hated feeling like a schoolboy going round to everybody he had upset apologising, but this hadn't been a small transgression, it was definitely more setting the school on fire than pulling hair in the playground, so he said, “Tony, I’m sorry, I...” 

Stark was typically Stark, probably knew how Clint was feeling right now, he had done his far share of atonement in his time, “Forget it Barton,” he joked, “I have... until the day I suddenly forget to catch you when you're falling of one of those buildings you make a habit of doing, pay backs a bitch Hawkeye.” He smiled and stretched out a hand from his position on the corner of the couch. Barton looked down at it for a moment, he wasn't altogether happy taking the hand, after all, they were still in his 'bad books' list right now, but he knew he was in the shit. He needed to try and calm things and gain some favour, if only for Phil's sake, Stark pulled him into his shoulder, “I'll be ready for you next time Barton!” 

Clint didn't bother with Fury and Hill, Jasper was too busy with Phil. Fury wouldn't let this go with a confession of guilt, he would answer for this is some way he was sure. He rushed back to Phil as he saw him trying to grapple his way up to a sitting position, a distressed look on his face as he ignored Sitwell as he told him to stay still, and that help was on the way. 

Clint slipped a hand under Coulson's uninjured shoulder and eased him up, Phil smiled in thanks before a pained expression flooded across his face and Phil's hand gripped hard as it held onto Barton's arm. “Boy, he packs quite a punch,” he grimaced.

That reminded Barton and he relied grumply, “You stupid bastard what the hell do you think you were doing stepping in front of me. He could have killed you,” speaking quietly, not wanting to upset Banner more.

“I told you not to get involved Barton!” He said piqued as he gently leaned back again the wall, his head leaving a smear of blood across the wall as it moved, his left arm left dangling uselessly at his side, his face pinched. 

“That was my battle not yours!” Clint countered.

“Oh for fucks' sake, do you two want to get a room or something!” Fury commanded as he stomped over and knelt down next to Coulson. He pulled his shirt back to get a better look at the injury, and pulled an ugly face at the sight, “I suppose you'll want more fucking time off now.”

Phil and Clint both stared in disbelief at Fury's unbelievable remark, as if the whole reason for them being here in the first place was forgotten, they turned to each other incredulously, before Phil's lips lifted and he smirked, Clint continued to watch as Coulson's mouth began to actually laugh and he got caught up himself as he smiled and then laughed, it was cut short as Phil grasped in pain and grabbed at his arm to stop his chest moving. 

“Fuck you, Nick,” he said through gritted teeth, “But just for the time being I’m going to take advantage of the excellent company medical insurance available to me with my job, and in the mean time, I’m going to decide if I even want the job.”

Nick's eye widened, “Cheese,” he swallowed, and laid his hand on Coulsons leg. “You know this isn't how I wanted any of this to go.”

Phil looked down, “I know, tell me though Nick, if I did, if I walked away, would S.H.I.E.L.D let me?”

“If … if that’s what you truly want, I’ll help you, set you up with whatever you want,” he squeezed the leg under his hand. He watched as the medic's started to pour in, and Barton got up to make room for them. He turned back to Phil, and said quietly out of Clint's hearing, “He needs help, Phil, he totally lost it in here while you were under, I can't let that slip.” 

Phil nodded curtly and sadly said back, “Okay, but wait for me to help, you at least owe me that.”

“So I owe you now do I?” 

Phil's was in pain, he's temper from earlier was easily found again, “You still haven't told me how the hell you got me back, don't think I have forgotten that, I need to know about the five days, Nick!”

Fury leaned back, looking a little furtive, “We'll talk about it once we get you sorted,” he said rather quietly. 

“What five days?” Roger says, having overheard the conversation.

Fury swore quietly under his breath. Phil looked at him, his eyes narrowed at the unaccustomed if near silent outburst from Fury.

Coulson looked across at Roger's and said blandly, “The five days I was dead.”

Steve looked down at Coulson eyes wide, mouth slackened in shock, “You were dead for five days?”

Phil looked puzzled, “Yes?” Fury was getting to his feet quickly, looking across at Hill, ducking his head towards the door. 

“Like I said we'll talk about this at a later date. Hill, Sitwell, let's go.”

“Wait!” Captain America said, but Fury was already at the door, the other two agents trailing behind. 

Steve looked from Fury back to Coulson, who by now had a host of medic's poking him, then back to Fury before turning to see where Stark was, he was so much better at getting to the bottom of this sorting this type of thing, with all his bluster and insensitivity! But Stark was over the other side of the room, with Barton, helping Banner with some clothes, whispering words of encouragement and understanding at him, as he pulled all sorts of miserable faces at them. 

“Stark!” 

The man in question spun round at the tone, “What!”

“Fury...” but as Rogers looked towards the door the man was already gone, he gave out a heavy sigh, and put his hands on his hips in anger. 

Tony got to his feet and came over, “What's he done now?”

“It's odd, Agent Coulson was talking to Fury,” his hands were flying around pointing at Coulson then the door as if he didn't quite know what to do with them in his agitation, “and he said, he still wanted to know about the five days.”

“What five days?”

“That's what I said and Coulson,” he looked perturbed, as he looked back at the medic's swarming round the man, “ Coulson said the five days he was dead!”

“I don't understand, perhaps he means, Ah hell I don't know?”

“He definitely said, dead, and Fury was up and out of here so fast.”

Stark looked over at Coulson, and then walked back to Clint, Rogers in toe. “Barton can you shed some light on this five days?” 

“Huh?”

“Agent Coulson said he had been dead for five days?”

“Well, yeah?” He looked at the men questioningly, “I don't understand, what are you asking?”

“He was dead for five days!” Stark said loudly as if it had just sunk in.

“You didn't know?” Clint was struggling to comprehend what was going on.

“Hell no, we were brought in when he was very much alive, well... not very much, hanging on may be closer, but not dead. How the hell could he have been dead for five days!” 

They all stare at each other, and as one turn towards Coulson, who is busy taking in gas and air. 

“Shit, you are saying that you had no idea that Phil had actually died and was brought back to life, Phil said according to Streiten and Centipede he had been dead for five days before they brought him back.”

“Oh my god, how very Dr Frankenstein!”

“Stark!”

“What we all caught sight of the huge great scar across his chest.”

“Yeah, was that one of your fucking machines that sewed him up!” Barton snapped and walked away over to Coulson. 

There were less medics now, it was obviously decided that he wasn't especially at risk, the guys arm was now in a restrictive sling, his shirt had vanished, Clint hoped that someone had folded it when they'd bagged it up or Phil won't be happy. He had a shitty green/grey colour to his skin, and a fine glisten (that's what Phil would call it) to his forehead that said more about his condition and how he was actually feeling than he himself would ever let on. Clint still had a completely wild and inappropriate (Your man friend is sitting propped against a wall in agony inappropriate) thought as he looked down a Phil's battered chest, his fingers rather itched at the idea of playing with the one visible nipple and running them through the rather delicious looking chest hair (god what was wrong with him, sex starved shouted back!) He clicked his eyes back up to Coulson's face in time to see the pained smirk looking back at him, damn! He damn well knew, how Phil worked out what was going on in Clint's completely chaotic brain quicker than he himself did was still a mystery and if he were inclined to blush he would probably be all kinds of red and pink right now! Instead he said seriously, “How ya doing?”

Phil raised his eyebrow, normal blank expression on his face, “I've been better, but hey, not many people can go for a round with the Hulk and live to tell the tale!” 

“Oh funny!” Clint said back, not in the least bit amused. 

Phil would always get points for trying though and said, “Could you upset Captain America next time though, it's my life’s ambition to get punched out by the man in red, white and blue.”

“Bastard.”

“Hey, don't say that about my hero!”

“I wasn't,” he said deadpan back, “You know we need to talk about this habit of joking around at improper times of crisis, that you have developed.” 

“My humour is never improper Barton.”

Clint snorted, so few people heard Coulson like this, even if it's at unseemly times, he loved it, and it's such a shame he had to shatter the moment.

“So,” he said being careful what he says in front of the medics, who were starting to pack up there various kits, he guessed it won't be long before they were whisking him away. “Stark and company say they didn't know about the five days.” 

“Didn't know?”

Clint shook his head, “They came in after. Said you where,” He leaned closer and said quietly, “ alive when they got to you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, sorry, I think they are freaking out a bit.”

“Can't think why, fuck, if they don't know, what the hell happened to me Clint?” He looked up in distress. 

“I don't know... Thor's not here...maybe.”

“Ah god, not Asgardian shit, please tell me it wasn't that.”

“I... sorry... I don't know Phil,” Clint said unhappily, as the medics started to push in again “we will find out though.”

Phil nodded his head but he didn't look confident in Clint's remark. “Clint,” his voice betrayed only a little of the overwhelming strife that must be going on in his head, he said in his bland working voice, “Today was a major cock up, Agent Barton,” he looked straight at Barton, blame firmly fixed.

“I know, I’m sorry, I...” Clint looked guiltily back, he was hoping for a bit of a breather to get things ordered in his own head before having to face it. “I... shit,” he ran his fingers frustratedly through his hair, “I’m obviously not as over Loki and all that crap as I’d hoped.”

Phil face softened, he put his own death in the 'all that crap' box and he genuinely smiled at Clint, “Good, that's good Clint, that you recognise that, I didn't expect... I’m proud of you.”

If anyone else said that to him, and he was sure to hear it in the hours of god damn therapy that probably now awaited him, he'd have to fight the urge to smack out at their condescending heads but from Phil, he felt an a dignified satisfaction and breathtaking realisation that he wasn't alone in this. They had a whole host of shit to overcome between them, but together, and hell, if the older man’s humour wasn't catching, he really wanted to think, to 'infinite and beyond.' This was way too slushy a conversation to happen in his own head, and as Phil got loaded on a stretcher without so much as sharp intake of breath, he thought and smiled. He was such a BAMF.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it for Behind Blue Eyes! I have run out of words in the song for titles, LOL. If you're interested I will be continuing the tale in 'HUMAN' i'm hoping to get it tied back into Agents of Shield, they have been very kind in last few episodes in that I think it will fit well into the story. Of course it will take me a few chapters to catch up and by then they might have blown all my plans, but hey ho that is the price you pay when you tie into current episodes, and WOW what great episodes they have been!
> 
> Having said all that, thank you all for continued support getting comments does make me feel all warm and fuzzy. I appreciate everyone who has stuck with this, it's turned much much bigger than I ever dreamed.


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